How I Changed Middle Earth
by Delia Brethilwen
Summary: Formerly "What You Didn't Know About Frodo Baggins." I have journeyed to Middle Earth, but little did I know then just how much I would change things. Since I was with Frodo most of the time, it is centered around him, but there are other stories to tell.
1. Mr Baggins of Bag End

Chapter 1: Mr. Baggins of Bag End

Frodo sat in Bilbo's old chair in the study, wondering if he had made it to Beorn's yet. It had been almost four years since the big Birthday Party, and since he'd seen Bilbo last, but Frodo still felt Bilbo's absence keenly. He had been happy, though, being his own master and _the_ Mr. Baggins of Bag End. And the wizard, Gandalf, was not gone forever either; he had arrived, if only for a short time, three years after the big Party, and since then had been dropping in on Frodo every so often. And Frodo always had some younger friends with him: Merry Brandybuck, Pippin Took, Fredegar Bolger, and Folco Boffin were the closest young hobbits. Oh, and Sam Gamgee, his gardener; good old Sam.

Frodo's musing thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. _Who could that be?_ he wondered; he could hear Sam clipping the bushes by the window, so it wasn't him. Besides, Sam would never knock on the front door; he would let himself in through the side door. Frodo rose and hurried to the door, hoping that it wasn't the dreaded Sackville-Bagginses. He opened the door and who should be standing there but Merry and Pippin themselves. A smile came to Frodo's face and he invited them to sit with him now in the kitchen. Once they were settled by the fire with cups of tea each, he asked the boys what brought them to Bag End.

"Well, Frodo, we came to ask if you would want to come with us tonight to Brandy Hall," Pippin started.

"It's the old man's birthday, and he told me to invite all my friends," Merry continued for him. "So that means Pip here, of course, as well as Fatty and Folco-"

"But it was my idea to invite you along, Frodo," Pippin interjected.

"Was not," Merry said,

"Was too." This argument would have continued for some time had Frodo not chosen that moment to stop it before it got out of hand.

"Merry, Pip, stop! It doesn't matter who had the idea; I'm glad to be invited, and more than willing to come along. Would you mind if Sam came too? He hasn't had a break from work in a while, and I figure he's deserved it."

At that moment, Sam's face appeared in the window and he said, "Oh, thank you Mr. Frodo, but I couldn't go with you all the way to Brandy Hall. I'll gladly take the break though; haven't been to the Green Dragon in a fortnight, I haven't."

Frodo laughed and smiled. "Ah, Sam. You'd best get rid of that bad habit of eavesdropping; someday it's bound to get you into a tighter place than you can fit. But go ahead, go to the Green Dragon." Sam smiled and nodded, and had almost ducked out of sight when Frodo said, "And say hi to Rosie for me, would you?" Sam blushed, and the three hobbits in the kitchen laughed out loud; it was widely known that Sam Gamgee thought very highly of Miss Rosie Cotton. Sam ducked away, face red as the beets he grew in his garden, and Frodo managed, after a few minutes, to control his laughter. "Alright, I'm coming with you boys tonight, but I don't suppose these house-clothes are appropriate attire for the old man's birthday. And I haven't even thought of a present for him yet."

"That's all right. Pip and I had a few more stops to make before heading back to Brandy Hall anyway; you go ahead and get ready, Frodo, and we'll be back around dinner to pick you up for the grandest supper you'll ever have, besides the one that old Bilbo threw for your birthdays three years ago." Frodo smiled at the mention of the big Birthday Party, and nodded. "I'll see you then." He saw the young hobbits to the door, and then turned, facing his long hallway.

"What to give, what to give?" he mused.


	2. Miss Brethilwen of Brandy Hall

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, my name is Delia Brethilwen. Now, you read the first chapter of my story, but it won't always be in third person like that was; only the parts that I didn't record but learned later will be in third person. Otherwise, it will be based around me, because while I was adventuring in Middle Earth, I was able to keep my voice recorder, and so I kept a record of everything that happened; my thoughts are the only ones I know in relation to the recording. My recorder was on at all times, even during battles. I will do my best to transcribe everything accurately. I hope you enjoy. Oh, and even though I've had these adventures, J.R.R. Tolkien still owns the world he's created.**

It was spring, I was almost twenty-one, and life had not been good to me. I was born and raised as an orphan in Ireland; my parents had been involved in a devastating car wreck. My father died on impact; mother lived only long enough to give birth to and name the twins she carried. My brother was separated from me, as we were sent to separate girls' and boys' orphanages. Add that the other girls always liked to pick on me because my nose was in a book and I was the smallest girl in the orphanage and I had a hard life.

It was that time of week when I reread The Lord of the Rings series for the 518th time. Yes, I've read LotR once a week for almost 10 straight years now, not to mention the movies a hundred times of their own. The books are better; they always are. Anyway, it was that time of week, but I hadn't been able to get to reading it until very late. But I was determined to start reading it anyways, and so I pulled a very well-loved paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Ring from my shelf devoted entirely to the world of Middle Earth, opened it to page one, and began to read.

I had just gotten to the part where Frodo was master of Bag End when I fell asleep. I didn't realize I was asleep until I heard a knock on my door and I jerked awake. But instead of my college dorm room, I was in a room that most definitely had to be in a hobbit-hole. Its door was round, the windows were round, even the walls were round in the way they curved up to the curved ceiling. Then there was another, more insistent knock on the door, this time followed by a voice calling, "Delia, get up! I hope you haven't spent all night reading again." That definitely didn't sound like my dorm mate.

"All right, just a minute," I call, hoping to buy time. Somehow, someway, I realize I've been taken to Middle Earth and turned into a hobbit, judging by my newly-hairy and huge feet. I need to figure out why I'm here, and what my background story is. As I get up, I find that I'm in a white nightgown, which is totally not my kind of pajamas. There's a wardrobe against the wall near the foot of my bed, and I go there to look for clothes. As I open it and peruse the contents, my heart sinks a little. It's all dresses, but then of course it'd be all dresses; this is Middle Earth after all. I pick a dress that's a plain brown and looks just like all the dresses I'd seen hobbit women wear in the movies.

I change quickly and look for shoes, then do a face-palm. I'm a hobbit; hobbits don't wear shoes. At least I'm already comfortable with going barefoot around the house. I notice that my recorder from my dorm room is sitting on my bedside table, and I decide to put it in my apron pocket, so that later I can go over everything that happens to me here. As I leave the room, I find myself wondering where I am exactly. Another question for the voice at the door.

Following the long hallway takes me past quite a few doors, and then I arrive at the place I think I was looking for: the kitchen. There's an older hobbit woman in there, leaning over a pot that's sitting in the fire. I cough as I approach, and the woman turns to look at me. "Ah, Delia, you're finally up. Why don't you help me with breakfast?" She motions me over to the pot, gives me the wooden spoon in her hands, and tells me to stir. Then she moves around the kitchen cutting vegetables, arranging fruit on a platter, and other such things. After a while, I can't hold my questions in any longer. I ask, "Um, sorry, but who are you again?"

The woman immediately stops and turns to me with a sad look on her face. "Having another bout of memory loss, Delia?" I nod, hoping it's the right thing to do. It was. "Come sit down then, lass, and I'll remind you again." I do as I'm told and she begins. "My name is Holly, and I found you wandering around outside a few weeks ago. I took you in, and it was obvious that you had no idea where you were. You only knew your name. So I made you a part of my family, and you've lived here in Brandy Hall with me since. The only problem is, you still have these bouts where you forget everything that has happened to you. When that happens, I just tell you again, like I'm doing now."

My mind was racing. _I'm at Brandy Hall? As in Buckland?_ "Brandy Hall?" I ask. "In Buckland, in the Shire?"

Holly smiles and nods. "Yes, see, now it's all coming back to you. Do you remember what your job is while you stay with me?"

I look around the kitchen and realize that Holly and her family must be house keepers and cooks for Brandy Hall. "Do I help you in the kitchen, cook, stuff like that?"

"Yes, yes, there you go! Now you're remembering right well, lass. You're the only other hobbit I let cook in here with me. You're the best cook I've ever met, beside meself. You're pies are the talk of Buckland." This I could understand, because ever since I was little, food had been a comfort to me along with books. So it was natural for me to be drawn to cooking and being able to do it well; that's what I was studying in college. And even though I ate a lot, and regularly, I seemed to somehow never be overweight. Maybe it was all that running from my tormentors at the orphanage that kept me fit. I still run every day as part of my exercise.

So now I had found out what my "back story" for Middle Earth was, but I still didn't know why I was here. I knew this motherly old hobbit wouldn't know, so I didn't bother to ask. Instead, I asked, "So, what are we making for breakfast today, Holly?"

Holly smiled and said, "Only the best for the Master of the Hall's birthday. I've got porridge in that pot you were stirring over there, and there are twenty egg casseroles in the oven right now. There's toast and butter and jam aplenty, and more than enough sausages. What isn't eaten for first breakfast will be kept warm for second breakfast, so that we can have more time to prepare for the big feast at dinner. Elevenses and tea will have to be done individually, as I've told everyone, so that is still more time for cooking, which we'll need. We've got four pigs to roast, five each of geese and ducks, six braces of conies, and three dozen quail. And that doesn't even include the salads, vegetables, and fruits we're putting out too, and all the bread we have to bake. There's cheeses as well, and many more such things. I hope you got enough rest last night, Delia, because you'll need it today."

My eyes widened at the thought of all that food, and I couldn't fathom that even fifty hobbits could eat that much. "How many are coming?"

"As many as are invited. I told the boys to only invite friends, so I hope that will keep the numbers down. But knowing the boys, the whole of Buckland will be invited, they're friends with that many people."

"Boys?"

"I do believe I hear them coming down the hall now for a bite to eat before they head off to do the inviting. Hello boys!" she called as two young hobbits a bit younger than me bounded into the kitchen. "Hullo, Holly! Hullo, Delia!" Who were the boys? None other than Merry and Pippin themselves. I have to give props to whoever did the casting for the LotR movies, because they were very close to the mark of what they actually look like. And of course, they were focused on the food. "What's for breakfast?" Merry asked.

I laughed and said, "Almost anything, Merry. What would you like?"

Merry smiled at me and said, "Everything!"

Holly winked at me and said, "I'll let you handle the boys. There's cream to be made." And she left.

"How about I make a basket for you? I'll put the best of everything in there, only don't tell the master, ok?" Merry and Pip nodded eagerly and I found a large basket to hold the food. I placed two loaves of bread in it, along with a sealed bowl of porridge, bacon and sausage wrapped in a cloth, cheese, fruit, and, last but not least, mushrooms. I also added a small bottle of wine and a jug of milk, then put a cloth over the top and handed it to the boys. "Now, if you're careful, this should last you till second breakfast. Surely by then you'll be somewhere you can impose yourselves upon the good hobbit-folk to feed you." They smiled and Pip pulled an apple from the basket. "Second breakfast? I don't think it'll last till then." He winked at me and off they went.

Holly reappeared after the boys had left and set a jar of cream down on the counter. "Well, now that the scavengers are gone, let's get to work!" I spent the next few hours transporting food and drink to the large dining room in the center of Brandy Hall. As I passed people, they would call out greetings and Holly, remembering I was having a bout of "memory loss", would tell me their names and what they did and a little family genealogy about each. I'll have to spend time on these so that I don't accidentally insult someone.

Once all the food is placed on the tables in the dining room, Holly and I and the other hobbits who were working in the kitchen with us made our way to dining room to eat with the hobbits gathered there. There was much talking, and mostly I kept to myself and listened to the conversations going on around me. There were many silly ones, concerned with the way the daisies were blooming that year, then slightly more important ones, like who had brewed the best beer in that year's annual contest, and then there were stories being told as well. I heard a snatch of a story concerning "Mad Baggins" being told by an older hobbit to a group of younger ones.

"There he was," the old hobbit said. "Standing in his chair, he was, making his speech, when all of a sudden, he shouted, there was a flash of light, and Mad Baggins disappeared, just like that." He snapped his fingers for effect. I tried my best to hide the smile that was tugging at my mouth as I heard the tale of Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party disappearance from the mouth of one who'd seen it in person. I knew how Bilbo had disappeared like that, and so it was funny to me. Then I started to wonder how many years it's been since then, or if it's even happened yet. That'd be a question for Merry and Pippin when they returned.

When breakfast was over, I helped to clear away the tables and begin to cook the food for the big birthday supper-feast. We started by putting the four hogs, three geese, two ducks, and half of the conies on spits over the fire, setting a few hobbits to turn them every few minutes. The quail were to be cooked three different ways: eighteen would be baked in the oven with butter under their skin, nine were to be made into stews, and the last nine were to be put into pies that I would be making. The other half of the conies and the rest of the duck and geese would be split between pies and stew as well. Since there were so many pies to be made, I had a guess as to how I'd be occu-"pied".

I was right. My reputation for pies had reached the ears of the Master of the Hall, Holly told me, and he had specifically requested my pies for his birthday. And so three conies, three ducks, two geese, and nine quail were laid before me, boiled in water for a short while over the fire, but not too much. Otherwise the meat would become tough and over-cooked during baking. I started with the de-boning of the conies and fowl, setting aside the conies for their own separate pies. I knew from experience that duck, quail, and goose would go together well with the right vegetables and gravy. I quickly made up a few batches of pie dough and went ahead with putting it into pie pans. Then I took a good portion of the broth from the pot that the meat had been boiled in and started to make a thin gravy with it, knowing that it would thicken while baking. I distributed half of the gravy evenly into the seven pie pans I had and added the chopped fowl to each. Also in the pies went onions, carrots, potatoes, green peas, salt, pepper, and a couple local herbs that reminded me of basil and parsley. Then I poured the rest of the gravy over the meat and vegetables, put the top crusts on, crimped the edges, slit the tops, and slid them into the oven with the help of a young hobbit named Sally.

I only had three conies, and so I wanted to do something special with them. In the end I went with mini pies. I found muffin tins, each having twelve muffin cups. Into each cup I pressed a piece of pie dough, pushing it halfway up the edges. The conies had been chopped to small bits for me by Sally, and had been put into a bowl to wait for me. Into the bowl now went a thick gravy made from the coney broth, along with a generous amount of salt. The other spices added were pepper, the herbs, and a spoonful of brown sugar. When it was all sufficiently mixed, I put a spoonful of the filling into each muffin cup atop the pie dough and placed another piece of dough on the tops. In essence I had just made twenty-four miniature coney pies.

There were more pies to make still, even after I'd finished the meat pies. I made mincemeat pies, which really don't have any meat at all; they are made with a mix of many different fruits and spices. I made many other pies, some with berries and some of just one fruit. By the time I finished all the pies, I had worked so hard that I had had to put my hair back into its bun three times and there was sweat running down my back. I'd never worked this hard in the kitchens at college, and I was enjoying every minute of it. When the pies were finished, I asked Holly if there was anything else that needed done, and she directed me to the cheese. My job was basically just cutting it into reasonably sized pieces and arranging them on the trays and platters beside breads and crackers of all sorts.

And then everything was taken out to the dining room and placed on the tables. There were four tables, so one hog per table, and then everything else was spread evenly throughout. There was forty-five minutes until the feast would begin, and Holly told me to take the time to get cleaned up and changed into party clothes. I returned to my room and went through the wardrobe. I couldn't really tell the difference between normal clothes and party clothes, but then I found a dress that was mostly purple satin and dark red velvet and decided that was fancy enough for a party. There was a small door leading to a washroom; inside was a wooden tub and an old-fashioned metal water pump. The water that came out of it was pleasantly cool after the warmth of the oven-heated kitchen, and I bathed quickly. Once in the velvet and satin dress, I debated whether or not to keep my hair up in its bun, or let the natural curls hang over my shoulders. I've always had naturally curly hair, so that didn't have to change when I came to Middle Earth. The color was left alone too, and so it was still the very dirty-blond that it had been my whole life. I decided to leave it down, and left the room, heading for the dining room.

I met Holly and Sally on the way there, and they walked with me the rest of the way. There were already quite a few hobbits in the room when we arrived, and Holly and Sally immediately moved off to greet old friends. I was standing awkwardly by the door still when Merry and Pippin came up to me. "Hello again, Delia," Merry said cheerfully.

"How's the cooking gone?" Pipping asked.

"Oh, hello, Merry, Pip. It's gone well. Everything's done and waiting, as you can see," I reply with a smile and a wave in the direction of the tables.

"I can smell it, too." Pippin put his nose in the air and made a show of sniffing. "Smells good. When do we start?"

I laugh. "As soon as the master decides he's hungry and ready for the feast he's ordered." They laugh with me, and I remember the question I had for them. "Hey, do you remember how long it's been since Bilbo Baggins' big Birthday Party?"

"Uh, two, maybe three, years ago, I think. What do you think, Pip?" Merry looked at him.

"That sounds about right, Merry. But if you wanted an exact number, Delia, you could always ask the other hobbit whose birthday falls on the same day as old Bilbo's. He's here now, being reintroduced to old friends." Pip pointed to a corner of the room, and there stood Frodo Baggins, engaged in conversation with a few other hobbits. I must admit that my mouth dropped open a little at the sight of him; I had never dreamed that I would be able meet _the_ Frodo Baggins, ever, even now that I was in Middle Earth. Merry and Pip caught the look on my face and burst out laughing. "Hey Merry, I think Delia's a impressed with Frodo."

"I think so, Pip." I realize finally that my mouth's hanging open and shut it with a snap. I glare at the boys. "It's not funny. I just never thought I'd have the opportunity to meet him."

"Well, what are we waiting for then? I think it's time Frodo made some new friends, don't you Pip?"

"I do, Merry." And so decided, they each grabbed one of my arms and led me over to him.

Frodo had just finished speaking to the hobbits in front of him when Merry, Pippin, and I halted in front of him. "Hullo Merry and Pippin. Who's this?" he asked when he saw us.

"Frodo, we'd like to introduce Miss Delia Brethilwen of Brandy Hall. She's a recent addition to our family," Merry said, with a wink at me.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Delia. Your name is very interesting," Frodo said as he held out his hand to me.

I shook it and said, "Yes, I know. My parents were – interesting."

"You'll have to tell me during supper how you came to be at Brandy Hall then, with an Elvish name."

"Alright. Would you like to sit down now?"

"Yes, I would. I've had enough trying to remember the names of people that I'm sure I never knew before." He gave a small chuckle and I smiled with him. Merry and Pippin went with us, and together we sat down at a table on the far left of the room; Frodo and I sat on one side, Merry and Pip sat on the other. Together we had a good meal, and I deliberately steered the three hobbits towards the pies, just to see what they would say about them. Holly may have said that I had a reputation, but I needed proof.

Pip tried a slice of my fowl pie, exclaiming, "That's a wonderful pie! I'm going to have to find the hobbit who made this and congratulate them!"

"You think that's good," said Merry. "You haven't tried these miniature coney pies yet." He held one up, and Pip snatched it from him. "Hey, I was going to eat that one!"

"Then why'd you have it in the air?"

"I was using it to support my point!"

"Well, I have a better use for it: filling my stomach!" And Pip tipped his head back, threw the pie in the air, and caught it in his mouth, getting many cheers and claps from the surrounding hobbits, who had heard the entire exchange. Pip held his hands up and nodded as he chewed and smiled. I laughed and shook my head. Maybe my pies were as popular as believed. I looked at Frodo, who was also laughing and clapping his hands. He had a piece of pie on his plate, a piece of my apple pie. He saw me looking and said, "It was good, too. I prefer normal fruity pies to meaty pies." I turned away and smiled a bit, realizing that my reputation was true. Frodo must have seen the smile, because he said, "You made the pies." It was a statement more than a question.

I looked at him and smiled again. "Yes, I did. I didn't say anything earlier because I wanted to know what you'd all say as honestly as possible." I was addressing all three, because Merry and Pippin had returned their attention, at least part-way, to me. "I thank you for your compliments. I worked hard on those pies."

Frodo bowed his head to me. "It was work well done, Delia. Now, would you mind telling me about your name while I enjoy your pie?"

"Certainly, as long as I finally get a taste of my pies before they're all gone." Frodo laughed, and I filled my plate with a couple coney pies, chunks of cheese, bread, some pork, and a slice of my blackberry pie. "You see Frodo, my parents had, for some reason, an obsession with the Elven language. I can't explain it because I never got the chance to ask them; they died a little after I was born." At this Frodo looked up at me with sympathy; I knew he was thinking of his own parents, who drowned while he was still a child, even to a human's standard. I gave a half-smile and continued. "I can't really divulge the rest of my story right now, because there are ears around that I would not want knowing the information I have. Maybe later we can go for a walk and discuss my life better." Frodo nodded, as did Merry and Pippin. "Meanwhile, I want to ask you a question, which is the whole reason why Merry and Pip dragged me over to meet you."

"Well, ask away."

"How long has it been since Bilbo's big Birthday Party?"

"Almost four years now. Close to three and a quarter."

"What is the exact date?"

"Let's see, it is June 10th today, of the year 1404, Shire-reckoning."

I nodded, thinking that it made sense. I had just read the paragraph that briefly outlined Frodo's years after the big Party when I had fallen asleep. I still wondered how I had got there and why. I almost asked a question about Gandalf, then realized that I'm not technically supposed to know about Gandalf yet. I decided to save that for our walk later, and instead say, "How's life as the master of Bag End?"

"Quite easy and relaxing, actually. I rather enjoying being called Mr. Baggins instead of Master Frodo."

"Oh, should I be calling you that, Mr. Baggins?" I say jokingly.

"No, no, you don't have to. Only the people that I am only barely acquainted with call me Mr. Baggins. All my friends call me Frodo. Except for Sam. He calls me Mr. Frodo, always has." A small smile came to Frodo's face as he thought of that.

"Where is Sam?" I ask. "I've heard he's a close friend of yours, but why didn't he come?"

"He didn't want to travel all the way to Buckland with me. He chose to go the Green Dragon instead, at Bywater." A full smile came to his lips then, and then a chuckle escaped.

"What?"

"Oh, he's just thinking of who exactly Sam is seeing at the Green Dragon," Pip answers.

"Oh yes, Miss Rosie. That beautiful lass; I'm sorry to say it, but I don't think Sam has a chance." That was Merry, and he was shaking his head.

"Why not?" I ask.

"She's far too beautiful for him. He'll be one of a hundred hobbits trying to win her hand, and I don't think he has much to offer."

"I don't know. Maybe he has a better chance than you think." I'm trying not to smile during this, because I know that Sam does indeed get married to the beautiful Rosie, and quite happily, too.

"I still say no, because he doesn't have the nerve to even talk to her, much less ask her to marry him."

I shrug. "Maybe not. But maybe sometime soon he'll change, and you'll find yourself as groomsman at their wedding." That brought a huge laugh from all three, and I joined in.

The supper-feast continued in much the same manner, and soon the hobbits were leaving in twos and threes, and Holly had ordered some of the kitchen workers to start clearing the tables that were empty. I excused myself from the boys to go talk to Holly. "Is there anything you need me to do? Should I start clearing tables with everyone else?" I asked when I got her attention.

"No, Delia, you go ahead and enjoy yourself. Looks like you've made yourself a new friend in that young Mr. Baggins. There's much to got from him, including his money." She said this with a wink at me. "So you back over there and continue having a good time, alright?" I smiled and nodded my thanks. As I turned away, I barely heard her say, "Ah, that I were young again."

When Frodo, Merry, and Pip were done eating, or as done as hobbits ever could be, I suggested that walk we had planned. They agreed, and showed me the way to the grounds. We walked in content silence for a while, then Frodo said, "Se, Delia, tell us more about yourself." They all looked at me expectantly as I tried to find a way to make them believe that what I was about to say was true.

"Well, try to believe me when I say that I'm not from Middle Earth." They all simultaneously raised their eyebrows and opened their mouths, but I cut them off. "Wait, let me continue. I come from a place that's called Earth. It's sort of like Middle Earth, but different in ways you wouldn't understand. I really don't know how I got here, or what my purpose is for being here, but I know that I am. You wanted to know about my life. My parents died in an accident: my father immediately, my mother only living long enough to give birth to me and my twin brother and name us before dying. I don't know why she gave me an Elvish name; I like to think sometimes that she's as devoted to Middle Earth as I am. How did she know about Middle Earth? You see, there was an author once, and he wrote a book called The Hobbit. It was all about Bilbo Baggins and his adventures to the Lonely Mountain and back."

Frodo interrupted me there. "People where you come from know all about his adventures?"

"Yes. The author claims that he found the Red Book, which is the book that Bilbo is writing his book in right now."

"So basically, you're from the future?"

I considered, and nodded. "I suppose you could say that. But the geography of Middle Earth is not similar to anything on Earth. So if I'm from the future of Middle Earth, then it has changed much to become Earth."

Pippin interjected, "It doesn't matter how you got here or where exactly you're from, just that you're here now. So what are you going to do, now that you're here? Are you going to try to find a way to go back, or are you going to stay for good?"

"I don't know, Pip. I will most likely stay for good, since I don't even know how I got here and it's not likely that I'll find a way back. But I'm fine with staying here because I don't have anyone I'm attached to where I come from, and the only school I was taking was for cooking and baking, which I can learn in abundance here. So I do believe I will stay. Besides, I already have four new friends here: you three and Holly, the head cook."

"Holly's easy to make friends with, as are most hobbits," Merry said.

"Especially if you are any good at cooking," Pippin added.

"Which you are," said Frodo.

I laughed. "Well, then I suppose I shall be the friend of every hobbit in the Shire by the time two months is up." We all laughed, and then found that we had turned back to Brandy Hall again and were standing a few yards from one of the side doors. "Speaking of your cooking, Delia," Frodo said. "I was wondering you might like to come live with me and be my cook and housekeeper. Bag End is a large hole for one hobbit, and sometimes I am too busy to clean all the rooms."

"He means he's too lazy," said Pippin.

Frodo smiled. "Yes, that too. And Bilbo may have been a fine enough cook, but I'm no good at it, and you're better than he was."

I thought about it. I didn't really want to stay at Brandy Hall, where so many hobbit-folk would be in and out every day. That was just calling for questions to be asked about me as I was introduced to new people everyday, and I didn't have a want to be known by everyone. And Frodo Baggins was my favorite character in the books, always had been, so staying with him would be no chore. I decided to accept. "Sure, Frodo, I'll come stay with you."

"Excellent," he said, but Merry and Pippin's faces fell.

"No more pies at Brandy Hall, Pip."

"No, Merry. They've all run off to Hobbiton."

I laughed. "I'm sure Frodo wouldn't mind having company every few days, if you wanted to come have tea and pie with us sometime, would you Frodo?"

"No, indeed. You are free to come whenever want the Shire's best pies." Merry and Pippin looked very relieved. "Well then, that's good," Pippins said.

"But there are other things we have to do, now that the master's party is over," Merry said.

"Like help escort the older hobbits to their homes away from Brandy Hall."

"So we'll see you two later." Merry and Pippin walked to the door and went inside.

"Well, Delia, when do you think you could move?" Frodo asked after a moment.

"Oh, I suppose I could come tonight, if you were willing to wait an hour at most for me to pack and say good-bye to Holly," I replied.

"Certainly. I'll be waiting by the front door when you are ready." I nodded, and followed through the door.

I went to the kitchen, where I knew I would find Holly, and talked to her. "Holly, I want to ask your permission to leave."

"Ask my permission?" she said. "Whatever for? You're a grown lass, you can take care of yourself. You seem much different this time than before when you had your memory losses. Where are you going?"

"Mr. Frodo has employed me as his cook and housekeeper at Bag End, with high compliments to my pies."

She smiled. "Of course he did. Why wouldn't he? Your pies are the best, and you're a hard worker. The only thing I'm sad about is losing your cheerful presence." When she said that, she gave me a hug, and then she said, "Go pack your things. Everything in that room where you woke up this morning is yours; they were old clothes of mine that I got too large for. Don't forget your books, and serve Mr. Baggins well. He's getting the best cook in the Shire, I think, so make sure he pays you well enough." I smiled at her and nodded. She was starting to sound like the mother I never had. "Now, go lass, get packed. I'll see you off at the door!" I turned at hurried to my room.

I found a couple leather packs under my bed, and, changing out of my nice dress back to the work clothes I'd worn in the kitchen, I put the velvet and satin dress at the bottom of one and put the rest of the dresses in on top of it. Then in the second pack I put the books that Holly had mentioned. To my surprise, they were many of my favorite old books from my childhood, like Peter Pan and Robin Hood. That was everything I had, and so packed, I headed for the front door.

Holly met me there, and we hugged one last time before I put my cloak on and my clothes pack over it; Frodo had insisted on taking the heaviest pack, the one with the books in it. With a final wave to Holly, I climbed up behind Frodo onto a little pony he had borrowed for his trip to Brandy Hall, and we set off for Hobbiton and Bag End.


	3. Meeting Sam

The trip to Bag End would have been almost three days on foot, but on the little pony, even with two riders, we made it to Hobbiton in a little over twenty hours of riding. We stopped at an inn on the way to get a bite to eat, so that we didn't go twenty hours without eating, but ten is a little long, especially for a hobbit, and so I knew that I'd probably be called upon to make a pie for Frodo when we got to our destination.

The sun was almost setting as we rode up the Hill past Bagshot Row. We dismounted and went up to the front door; Sam was there, watering the potted plants on the front porch. "Hullo, Sam, I'm back," Frodo said.

Sam started, spilling water. "Oh, hullo Mr. Frodo. I was just watering the plants here."

"I saw. Would you do me a favor and return this good little pony to the stable down the hill?"

"Of course, Mr. Frodo." Then Sam noticed me. "Who've you brought home, sir?"

"I'm Delia," I said, holding out my hand to shake. As he shook it I said, "I'm going to be the cook and housekeeper for Frodo."

"Ah. Are you good, then?"

"She makes the best pies in the Shire, Sam. You'll have to try a piece sometime," Frodo said.

"Actually, I was thinking of making a pie tonight for our supper, if that was alright." I looked at Frodo.

"Sure. How about you come and have a piece after you've taken care of the pony, Sam?"

"I'd be delighted to, sir. I'll take the pony right away." And Sam did, hurrying to the pony and leading it back down the hill to the Hobbiton stables. "Well, let's get inside. It's feeling a little nippy."

Frodo led me into Bag End. It looked like everything my mind had ever imagined it to be from the books. Forget the movies; the real thing was so much better. In the movies, you never see much of the hole, only the front hallway, the kitchen, and Bilbo's study. The hole was a lot larger than it would seem. The hallway stretched in front of me for some time, with side hallways branching off every yard or so and sometimes just a door instead of a hallway. It seemed a hobbit-hole big enough to accommodate a whole family instead of just a bachelor and his housekeeper. Speaking of bachelor, Frodo was watching me take in his home, a small smile on his face. "What do you think?" he said, snapping me back to reality.

"Oh, I was just thinking it looks every bit like I imagined it would be."

He cast a curious look at me, and I hurried to explain. "I've read the book about Bilbo, and it goes into some description about his hobbit-hole."

"I see. Follow me and I'll show you your room." I followed him down the long hallway, taking the second hallway on the right and going through the fourth door on the left. It was the door to my room, which looked a lot like the room at Brandy Hall, except that this one was done in varying shades of yellow, while the other had been shades of brown. The attached washroom was also larger, with a small stove to heat water on for the bath and a larger washtub.

"I hope it will be comfortable," Frodo said.

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," I replied. I set my pack of clothes on the bed, and had Frodo put the books on the floor beside it, and then he led me back to the kitchen, pointing out his bedroom on the way there. "In case you ever need me and I'm not in Bilbo's study, I'll usually be in there." I nodded, noting that it was only a few doors from my room.

In the kitchen, I quickly became acquainted with the place of everything, food and cooking utensils and eating utensils. Then I set to work making the pie. It was a simple beef pie, because that's all that Frodo had in his parlor, and it was done in thirty minutes, by which time Sam had returned and was sitting with Frodo at the kitchen table awaiting the pie. I also made tea while the pie was baking and poured a cup for each of us. Then I served the pie and we sat down to our supper.

I had Sam's approval the moment he finished his first bite. "I don't know where you found her, Mr. Frodo, but I'm glad you did. I'm going to stop eating my own mother's food everyday; instead, I'll come up here for dinner."

Frodo laughed, saying, "Well, then I guess we'll have dinner guests more often than usual, because Merry and Pippin are going to be coming over more often as well, they've said." I just smiled and sipped my tea, having already finished my piece of pie and not feeling hungry enough for a second piece. I daresay Sam made it up for me, though, because he had half the pie before he was content. He sat back with a sigh and nodded to me. "Excellent pie, Ms. Delia."

"Thank you, Sam."

"I should be getting home now. My gaffer'll be wondering where I am. Thanks for inviting me for dinner. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Frodo, Miss Delia." We shook hands with Sam, and off he went, down the hill to his home on Bagshot Row.

It had been a long day, and I felt sleep in my eyes as I yawned and closed the door. Frodo noticed and said, "Go to bed Delia. You've had a long day today, I know, and you're probably very confused about some things still. You'll be able to figure them out better if you rest. Go now. I'll wake you in the morning."

I gave a tired smile and nodded my thanks, turning for the hall and my room. I changed into my nightgown as quickly as possible and fell onto the soft feather mattress. I was asleep almost instantly, having time only for the quick thought, _I wonder when Gandalf will visit Frodo again_.


	4. Meeting Gandalf

I awoke to a banging sound coming as if from a distance. For a moment I was confused, wondering where I was, and then I remembered. I got up, wrapped a dressing gown around my shoulders, and went to my door. When I opened it, Frodo was standing there. "Delia, I'm sorry to wake you, but there's someone at the door. I'm fairly certain of who it is, and so I came to ask you to make some tea and prepare a little meal for him. I'll go answer the door now while you head to the kitchen." I nodded and hurried away, wondering who it could be.

The water had just begun to boil when Frodo led the late night guest into the kitchen. I soon as I saw who it was, his presence and midnight arrival made sense. It was Gandalf, the wizard, and just the person I wanted to speak to; he, if anyone, would be able to help me understand a little better why I was there. I carefully poured the hot water from the kettle into the teapot, which I'd already put tea leaves into and placed on the table, and motioned for Gandalf to take a seat. He looked tired and careworn, as described in the books, but also older than he had been portrayed in the movies.

He smiled at me in thanks as I poured him a cup of tea, and accepted gratefully the bread, cheese, and pork I handed him on a plate. Then Frodo and I sat across the table from him, sipping our own cups of tea as we waited for Gandalf to satisfy his hunger. It only after he had finished his food, two cups of tea, and sat back with his pipe and a third cup that he started to talk.

"Well, Frodo, I do believe that I owe you yet another apology for waking you from your peaceful slumber, as well as you, Miss...?" He paused on a question.

"Delia," I said. "Delia Brethilwen."

"Miss Delia. I thank you for your excellent tea and food." I smiled. "Now, I have come only to check on you once again Frodo, and to say that I hope you are keeping yourself well."

"I am, Gandalf. But how are you keeping yourself? Have you discovered what you were searching for?"

"No, dear boy, not yet. Still searching, it seems. Although I am a little closer than I was the last time I visited." Frodo and I both waited for him to tell us more, but he was not forthcoming.

"Will you tell us nothing of what you are getting closer to?"

"No, I don't think I will. But I would like a place to stay for a little while, just until morning. Then I must be off again, before the sun rises too high."

"Alright, I'll go get your room ready right now. Delia is new, having just arrived today, so she doesn't know where it is. And daresay she's a bit better company than I am, and prettier to look at." Frodo rose and left the kitchen, leaving me with Gandalf and my opportunity to talk to him.

"Gandalf, I have something I need to tell you, and advice to ask of you." He made a sound like "Hm?" and motioned with his pipe for me to continue. "I am not from Middle Earth." He raised his eyebrows. "I am from a placed called Earth, and on Earth, they have a book. This book is a story of the Third Age of Middle Earth, which is right now."

Gandalf choked on his smoke and said, "You have read this book?"

I nodded. "I know everything about the book, and about the ring that Frodo was given by Bilbo."

"Do you know whether or not that ring is a ring of power?"

"Yes, but I won't tell you, because it is not my place to change the fates of the inhabitants of this world, not in so drastic a way. You will spend a long time searching for what you are looking for, and I know what you are looking for, before you find it." Gandalf was about to say something, but before he could, I hurriedly continued, afraid that he would demand that I tell him. "Please understand. I don't have any ill intentions; I only want to help. I know everything that will happen; I know hopes and dreams and fears. But I don't want to use that information for my own ends, to make things go the way I think they should go. I know that my even being here right now changes everything, and I'm determined not to change anything that would lead to enormous and dangerous consequences." I looked at Gandalf now, and realized that he understood me completely.

"Delia, I understand your choice, and I say that it is a wise one for someone of your age and in your position. You could use your knowledge for evil, for your own advantages, but you have chosen not to. I can sense that there will be times when your knowledge may be useful, and at those times, you must make your own decision and not let others' opinions and ideas influence you, not even mine. Don't let your feelings get in the way of doing what's right, Delia. Only trust, and everything will come together for good."

I smiled, relieved. But then I frowned, and voiced another question. "Why do you think that I'm here, Gandalf? I mean, one moment I was reading the book about Middle Earth and the next I was there, in Brandy Hall, transformed into a hobbit. Is there any way to find out how I got here, or how to get back?"

Gandalf frowned thoughtfully, considering. "I believe that there is a purpose behind everything. There are good and evil forces at work in the world, and everything is influenced by both. How well do you know this book?"

"As well as if it was my own life I was reading about. I've read it more than half a thousand times, and could recite it in my sleep."

"Well, I hope you don't do that, but it may be that you have been brought here because your knowledge would be able to guide those you have been sent to help. Who is the story about?"

"Mainly Frodo, but you play a large part in it too, as well as a few others, including the Dunadain Ranger Aragorn. You are friends with him."

"Indeed?" I nodded. "Indeed. This is much to think about and consider. But I am tired now, and must leave early. And I do believe Frodo has returned from making my room ready." As he said that, I heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen, and Frodo walks in saying, "Gandalf, your bed's made and ready. What time exactly will you be leaving?"

"The seventh hour, after the sun has risen but the hobbits have not."

"Alright, I'll be up to see you off then."

"There's no need for that, Frodo. I wish to leave as quietly as possible, and that means no seeing off. I'll just leave out of a side door."

"Alright if you insist. Rest well Gandalf; I have a feeling you'll need it."

Gandalf smiled and placed his hand on Frodo's shoulder. "You as well, Frodo, my lad. Lord knows how busy you are will Bag End nowadays." He winked at me. "And good night to you, Miss Delia. May you sleep in peace and not let your troubles bother you while you stay in this home." He gave a knowing smile and stood, heading for the bed that had been made for him. I finished my cup of tea and stood as well, but before I could leave Frodo stopped me with a hand on my arm. "Delia, what troubles was Gandalf talking about?"

"Frodo, you must trust me. I have knowledge that could be very dangerous, and it is this knowledge that troubles me. But you must trust that I will wisely use this knowledge, and I ask that you do not ask me to share the knowledge with you."

He nodded. "Alright, Delia. I trust you. Have a good night."

When I got to my room, I opened the curtains on the window. It was a cloudless night, and I could see the stars shining bright above, the constellations foreign yet familiar. As I got back into bed, I left the curtains open, knowing that the sun would wake me as it rose the next morning; I was in no way going to let Gandalf leave with no breakfast or food for his journey. If I woke when the sun did, I would have enough time to dress and prepare it for him.

The morning dawned with the sound of roosters greeting the sun. There seemed to be one right above my room, in fact; this ensured that I did indeed wake up. I dressed quickly and walked to the kitchen, where I found Gandalf busy at the fire.

"Gandalf? What are you doing up so early?" I asked.

"I might ask the same of you, Delia," the wizard replied. I could tell he was more startled than angry, though.

"_I_ was going to fix you a little breakfast and pack food for your journey."

"That was exactly what I was going to do."

"But you said you weren't going to get up at the seventh hour; this is only the fifth!"

"I must admit that I stretched the truth in this case," Gandalf said sheepishly. "I said that I would be up 'after the sun but before the hobbits'. At least, I meant to be. It seems you rise earlier than most hobbits willingly do."

"Well, in my world, I was not a hobbit. I have only been one for as long as I have been in Middle Earth. And I am used to getting up early because my classes would start at the eighth hour every day. Therefore it was no problem to wake up early and make you breakfast and traveling food."

"I see. I have already prepared my own breakfast, unfortunately, but I would appreciate you packing food for me while I ate it."

I smiled and nodded, glad to help the wizard in any way I could. I took the pack that he handed me and went to the pantry, trying to find all the nonperishable foods I could that would last a long trip. I ended up packing two loaves of bread, salted pork wrapped in cloth, a whole rind of cheese, dried slices of peach, dried prunes and raisins, and a few apples. He'd have to eat the apples soon, but at least he'd have some fresh fruit on his journey. When I took the pack back out to him, he had finished the little breakfast and was sitting at the table still, sipping the last of his tea. I handed the pack to him and he stood with a smile.

"It feels as though you've put the whole pantry in this one bag," he said, raising one bushy eyebrow.

I laughed. "No, just enough to last you a while during your journey. Because I know where you will be traveling, and you may not find a friendly face on the way."

"Thank you, Delia. I hope I will be able to return soon, and that I will be able to stay longer. Give Frodo my farewell." With that, he turned and went out the side door, and I watched him walk quickly down the lane.

I had another hour and a half before Frodo would be up, expecting Gandalf to be off, and an hour before I needed to start breakfast. I decided to go sit on top of the hill and watch the sunrise for a while, and think of things. I walked through the door and shut it quietly behind me, then headed up the hill. Once there, I sat down on the grass and pulled my knees up to my chin, wrapping my arms around my shins. I was facing the sunrise, and the colors it painted on the sky-canvas were so amazing that I wished for a moment that I was the Shire's best painter, instead of pie-maker, so that I could capture that sunrise.

There were deep pinks, light purples, shades of orange, yellow, and red, and above it all, there was the dark blue of night that lightened as it approached the horizon and the other colors. I sighed, happy for a moment that I was in Middle Earth and with Frodo Baggins, who, I must admit, has always been my favorite character in the LotR series. And then I remembered that this calm would only last for a while. Gandalf's journeys would end with his discovery of what the Ring really is, and then Frodo would start out on his journey. Would I go with him? I supposed I should, because my knowledge would be useful eventually, I knew. But what repercussions would I cause my joining the Fellowship? What changes would come to be because of me?

I pondered these thoughts for the hour, and then returned inside, building up the little fire already burning from Gandalf's meal. I had just set the table for breakfast when Frodo came into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning. For a while he just stood in the entryway, and then he realized that Gandalf was not there. "Where's Gandalf?" he asked me.

"He had planned to leave early all along. I only managed to catch him because I was up at the fifth hour today; I had planned to make him breakfast and prepare a pack of food for his journey. But he beat me to it, and had already made his breakfast. I barely had time to fill his pack with food before he was off down the lane. He told me to say good-bye for him."

Frodo looked dejected. "I had wanted to say a last good-bye. But I suppose it is for the better."

I moved to comfort him, placing my hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Frodo; he'll be back soon. I know he will."

Frodo looked at me and smiled, and then he smelled the food. "Thanks Delia. What have you made for breakfast?"

I smiled back. "An egg pie. In my world we call it a quiche. The crust is actually made from the egg itself, when it bakes against the pan. The things that are mixed with the egg varies depending on who makes it, but I normally put spinach, bacon, and cheese in mine. That's what this one is."

"Of course you would make a pie, even for breakfast!" Frodo laughed and sat down, helping himself to my quiche.


	5. Eothela, Shieldmaiden of Rohan

**AN: I know that the title of the story is "What You Didn't Know About Frodo Baggins", but I only put that for lack of a better title. I will, hopefully, find a better one soon; for this story is not just about Frodo Baggins, as you are about to find out. And remember, these adventures are mine, but Tolkien had them first, so he owns 'em.**

On the other side of Middle Earth, a fourteen year old fights to enter the cavalry of Rohan. Literally.

The fourteen year old was a girl, her name was Eothela, and she swung her battle-axes in an arc at the nearest Rohirrim soldier who was trying to hit her with his sword. They had started out on horseback, each with a long spear, but Eothela's strength wasn't with a spear, and she had quickly pushed the fight to the ground to get the advantage. She parried the man's next attack and took the opening it gave her, swinging her left ax towards his exposed right side. He saw it coming, though, and managed a weak block, knocking her ax away at the last second. But that was what she had wanted: with his sword all the way at his right, his neck was exposed to her right ax, and she brought it up in an arc, aiming for the unprotected flesh. Before it touched, however, she stopped the ax in its path and instead held it gently to his neck. "Dead," she whispered in his ear.

He lowered his head, sword falling to his side. Eothela did the same with her axes and looked at the commander, the one who would decide whether or not she would be part of the army. There was a slight smile on his face, but then it disappeared. "Alright," he said to her. "You can be in the cavalry. But you will have to go through the same training as the other men; just because you are a girl doesn't mean that you will get special privileges. There have been women in the ranks before now, and you are not the first in this time. All soldiers are treated the same, no preferences given. Are you sure you wish to join the ranks of the protectors of Rohan?"

"Yes," Eothela said eagerly.

"Very well. You start training tomorrow, because though you know how to handle your axes well, there is much room for improvement, and I know just the person to train you." Something in the way the commander said that made Eothela narrow her eyes, but she nodded. "I want you at the barracks ready to start training at the eighth hour sharp. You know how we let the soldiers stay with their families, so you won't have to bring anything. Just be prepared for training." She nodded, and he nodded back. "Good. Go now."

She turned to leave, and saw something she hadn't noticed before: a crowd of spectators had gathered to watch the fight, and most had stayed to see what the commander would say to the girl. Among the spectators was a young boy, not much younger than her. It was Eomer, the king's nephew, and he was still standing and staring at her as she turned to go. She bowed her head slightly, to show her respect of royalty, and then hurried back home. She knew the boy's story, because it was her own as well: two years ago his father had taken a few men and gone hunting a small band of orcs that had raided a village; her father had been one of those men. All of them had been ambushed and killed near the Emyn Muil by the large force of orcs that the small band had belonged to. Then a little while later, Eomer's mother died of grief, which saddened the king greatly, for she had been a dearly loved sister to him. King Theoden took in the then-eleven Eomer and his sister Eowyn, who was seven at the time, and he raised them as his own children, having himself only one son, Theodred.

Eothela wondered at what it would be like to live in the shining halls of Meduseld, and be a princess, or even just a hand maiden to the princess. Then she shook her head and cleared her mind of such thoughts. She was not raised to be a princess, or even a princess' hand maiden; she was raised a shield-maiden of Rohan, a fighting lady who defended her home. And now she had gained her dream: to be part of the Rohirrim cavalry. As she entered the door to her house, she slid her two axes into her belt; her mother hated it when she let them swing freely from her hands around the house. The first time she had wielded the axes, she had accidentally cleaved in two one of her mother's favorite vases; after that, there were no more unsheathed weapons in that house. She entered the kitchen now, a smile on her face as she approached her mother, who was bending over the fire.

"Mother, I made it. The commander made me a part of the cavalry," she said excitedly.

Her mother straightened and turned to her, smiling. "I knew you would make it, Ella." Ella was her mother's pet name for her daughter and only child. "When do you start training?"

"Tomorrow morning at the eighth hour, sharp," she said, doing a passable imitation of the commander's deep voice. She abruptly switched back to her own and said, "Oh, Mother, I'm so excited. Father taught me well in the time that he could, but there is so much more for me to learn. The commander said that he knew just the person to train me in my specialty."

"Don't train too hard, Ella. I know they don't go easy on any recruits, even if they're girls, but you know when you can go further and when you can't. They will listen to you when you tell them that. Now, come help me with dinner; we are going to have my friend and her family over for dinner tonight, and I wanted to make a little something special, for company." The next hour was spent making bread, stirring stew, and Ella getting frustrated with her hair.

"Mother, can I please cut my hair? Now that I'm in the cavalry, it'll just get in the way when I fight." She'd had this conversation with her mother a million times before, but she was determined to try and try again until her mother relented.

But this wasn't the time for relenting. "No, Eothela. You can tuck it into your helmet or braid it up. And I tell you time and time again, if you do not try to appear nice when around men, then none will want to marry you."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Why must I look a certain way for a man to want to marry me? Why can't he want to marry me because I can behead five orcs in a row? Why do I have to make a good stew? Why can't he want to marry me because I can best him in a fight?"

Her mother turned and stared at her with an exasperated look. "Ella, I am beginning to believe that you will _never_ get married."

Eothela shrugged and continued kneading the bread. When she had to stoop low and bend her head to put it in the oven, her hair fell into her eyes and she cursed. No matter how tight she braided her hair, there was always some hair that insisted on falling out of the braid and into her eyes. "Watch your tongue, young lady. I will not tolerate you cursing like your father's reincarnation." Her father had been notorious for cursing at almost anything, even just meat a little underdone for his tastes.

"Mother, you know I would never curse at meat."

"I think you would, if it didn't turn out right in a stew that you didn't watch well enough. You'd even curse the stew and the fire and the pot and the-"

"Alright, Mother, I get the point." Truth was, Eothela didn't really curse much; she had never liked the sound when it came out of her father's mouth, and she cringed a little every time it left her own. They carried on with making dinner, and then it was done and the company came over: a couple who where friends with her mother, and their two boys. Eothela made sure to sit away from them at the table, and when she was finished eating, she excused herself, promised her mother she'd return to help clean the dishes, and then she left her house, heading for the small two-horse stable behind the house.

Inside, her father's horse Jerran greeted her with a whinny as she approached his stall. When her father had died, she'd kept his horse and sold the one that he had bought earlier for her. She had learned to ride on Jerran, but the new horse had been too new, and so she went with the horse that had the most sentimental value. Eothela had brought out a little sugar for him, and he licked it from her right hand as she stroked his mane with her left. It was routine now for her to go out for a ride every night after supper and before the gates of Edoras closed. For the short rides like this, she preferred to ride him bareback, no saddle or bridle. She began to mount up, winding her left hand into his mane and putting her right in the middle of his back. Then she jumped, transferring her weight to her right hand and pulling with her left, and swung her right leg over his wide back, settling herself and winding her other hand into his mane now. With gentle touch, she guided him out of the stable and onto the road.

Once out of the gates and on the plains surrounding Edoras, she gave Jerran his head, and he neighed happily, taking off into a gallop. Eothela kept her hands in his mane, as protection from falling, and stayed low over his neck, feeling the wind whip through her hair. She had to admit, long hair was actually quite nice when riding at full gallop. When they had gone almost a mile from Edoras, she slowed him down and turned him around, this time going at a canter. She watched the falling sun light up Edoras from behind, its golden light reflected in the walls of Meduseld. Again, thoughts of royalty and royal life crossed her mind, but it was only passing and she spent most of the ride admiring the sunset. She and her father had done this once, just before his death, and since he'd died, she'd taken it up as routine. It helped to feel as though he wasn't really gone; there was a little piece of him inside her. Maybe that little piece was what made her curse, but she was glad it was there. She didn't know what she'd do without her father.


	6. Ningloriel i Hithchen of Lothlorien

**AN: Another story that is not part of Frodo's. Yet. Enjoy, and Tolkien owns LotR.**

An elf stood at the banks of the Nimrodel and watched the waters flow past her. She could hear the voice of the the elf-maiden Nimrodel in the water, and she began to sing the story of Nimrodel in her native tongue. She was interrupted by a slight sound; barely the rustle of the grass behind her, but to her elven ears, it was the sound of someone watching her. Yet she didn't falter her singing, or turn to see who it was; she remained exactly as she had been before, even going a little into the stream and bathing her feet. They said the waters of the Nimrodel would heal all weary feet, and hers were weary.

Then there was another sound, faint to say the least, almost impossible to hear with any other ear but an elf's. Her watcher was in the trees above and behind her. She continued her song, crouching in the water and letting it run over her right hand. All of a sudden, she drew a sword from her waist with her left hand and spun, leaping into the air with a splash of water, and landed a few feet up the bank, her flat of her sword pressed against the side of the head of her watcher; he had dropped from the tree. For a few moments, she held that position, glaring at the watcher, and then she laughed and removed her sword, much to the man's relief. Although it was not a man; it was another elf, a he-elf, and he had been trying to sneak up on her as part of his training.

She was Ningloriel i Hithchen, one of the few elves that were privileged with training the young members of the Lorien army. Her second name, Hithchen, was a well-earned name: it meant "mist-child" in Sindarin, and she had been a child of the mist since she could walk. Her specialty was hidden and noiseless movement, starting out standing in one place, disappearing, and reappearing in a place ten yards away from her starting place, without a rustle of grass or rattle of leaf. She could sneak up on you in many different ways, and you would never hear her coming, no matter which way she chose.

Her skills were useful in the Lorien army, and she had quickly risen to being a commander and a trainer. Today had been just another day in training. "You did well, today. The noise that gave you away was slight, and only the most trained ear would be able to hear it. If you had been following a human, you would have been able to go unnoticed; but the orcs are only twisted elves, and their hearing is as good as ours. They might miss a noise of your step among other grass rustles, but when it is windless and the grass still, then they may catch you with a little slip like that. Practice more, and come back in a week." That was her way; train them, have them practice on their own, test them, and if they fail, have them practice more until they can pass the test. Then she would recommend that they were ready.

Ningloriel had been told to make the training a little faster, for war was close to hand; only a few more years, Galadriel had said, and they would all set off to help save Middle Earth. As the young elf walked off, Ningloriel waded back into the stream, rolling the legs of her fighting trousers up to her knees so that the water could flow over her shins as well. She stood in the water and finished the song she had been singing, the song of Nimrodel. She sighed as she finished it, for it was a sad song, but she could not find a piece of herself in the song. The two lovers had been separated, and the male elf, Amroth, had leaped from his ship to go find his lover, Nimrodel. She had been lost in the mountain passes, and he never found her, and he too was lost.

It was a sad song that would never apply to Ningloriel.

She had been alive longer than many of the elves that lived in Lorien now, although she was no where near as old as Lady Galadriel; the lady had been born Valinor, the Undying Lands, long before the start of the First Age of Middle Earth. Ningloriel herself had only been born at the end of the First Age, after the Eldar had helped the Valar and Maiar to drive out Morgaroth and there was peace for a while in Middle Earth. Her parents had raised her for a while, her father teaching her the ways of the sword, but then there was unrest in the land, and her father and mother abandoned her, taking a ship to Eressea and leaving only a note and a sword. The note said that they didn't take her along because she was still so young, she would have a chance for a good life in Middle Earth, but they were old now, and were longing for their old home, from which they'd traveled long ago. She later burnt the note, but kept the sword and used it; she still had it today.

Her parents had been right: she had had a good life. She was one of Galadriel's most trusted advisors, she led her own part of the army of Lothlorien, and she trained younger elves in the old ways of the sword. And yet, she had never once had a lover, or a husband, nor anything close to either. There had been many opportunities, surely, and many offers, but she had not cared for her suitors as more than friends and sometimes fellow commanders and trainers. She was not sad because of her choice; maybe she wanted to be loved in that way, but she really felt as though she had no need of a lover or husband, and her life was happy enough as it was.

Ningloriel's life revolved around defending good. That had started when her father had first handed her a sword and taught her the first thrust and parry. Then, when her parents had left her, she had felt so without purpose, so sad, that she had been unable to defend herself from the wolves that had surrounded her where she stood. She had almost been willing when they had leaped at her and started to eat her alive. But there was some small part of her that still wished to live, to make good on her parents' promise of a good life, and it was this part that began to struggle with the wolves. Then she heard a beautiful voice call to the wolves, and berate them, and they left her body, running away from the voice. That was when she first met the Lady Galadriel.

Galadriel had healed her, and Ningloriel had come to think of her as her new mother; indeed, Galadriel had taken Ningloriel into her heart as a foster-daughter. Now Ningloriel answered only to Galadriel, and respected Celeborn, the elf whom Galadriel came to love and marry. Celeborn had seen Ningloriel's skill with the blade, and had continued her training. She would practice by defending the borders of the forest of Lothlorien, and sometimes even venturing out further into Middle Earth and defending the helpless against the evil that had crept back into the world. Now, she was the trainer, and she was found more often in the trees of Lorien keeping watch.

Ningloriel was brought back from her thoughts by the touch of Galadriel's mind. She was wanted by the Lady of Light. She responded quickly, not with her thoughts but her actions: she sprang lightly from the water, reaching with her hands towards the tree branch above her head. It hit the middle of her palm, and she closed her hand around it while swinging her body up onto the branch itself. Then she moved, light as a squirrel, along the branch and through the trees, leaping from branch to branch as if she had been born and raised in the treetops. She reached the center of Lorien, and the palace of Galadriel and Celeborn, in minutes. She dropped from the branches, landing lightly on one of the talans that was connected to Galadriel's rooms; she hurried to the rooms now.

Ningloriel breezed into the rooms, finding Galadriel standing in front of one of the many windows on the walls. "You wanted to see me, milady?"

"Yes, Ningloriel," Galadriel replied as she motioned for her to come stand beside her. "As I have told you before, there is evil growing in the dark places of the world. Evil that we must fight, if Middle Earth is to survive. I have seen that you will be part of this; you will play a large part in fighting the evil. But this is what you have always done, and you know that it would be so when the evil came. This is not why I have called you here. I have called you here because yet another man has asked me how to approach you in courtship." Here, Galadriel looked at her with a knowing smile. "I told him that you had no intention of marrying. Needless to say, he believed me, but he seemed determined to try nonetheless. I wanted to give you warning, and to advise you to treat him kindly when he does ask."

Ningloriel laughed and raised her eyebrows. "I thank you, Lady Galadriel, for warning me of a future suitor. Maybe this one will suit me; then maybe he won't. I do not need a man to be happy, as I've said before." Her smile left then. "Why do you really tell me this?"

Galadriel sobered too. "I fear that this evil will take much from the world, and especially happiness. I know that the time of the elves is waning, and Men will soon reign Middle Earth. If you survive this evil, will you stay, even when all other elves have left, and continue to defend the good in this world? Will you remain alone until this world ends, and you are taken away to Valinor?"

Ningloriel considered the questions. It did not take long for her to answer. "Yes. There is none that I now know that I find suitable to be a husband, so I will remain alone. Even when I am the last of my race, and though I may be the last defender of good, I will still stay till the world's end, or my death."

Galadriel's face became sad, but she nodded and said, "This will be your fate, then, if you do not fall in love."

Ningloriel nodded, because she had suspected this. Galadriel brought her hand to Ningloriel's cheek, touching it lightly as a mother would a daughter. Then she smiled and said, "If there is a husband for you in the world, man or elf, then he is lucky indeed." Ningloriel smiled in return.


	7. Love or No Love?

**AN: Back to Frodo and myself. LotR is Tolkien's.**

It was a beautiful fall day in the Shire. Life at Bag End was better than I had thought. There really wasn't much cleaning to do, since only three bedrooms were used, and one only infrequently, and of the other rooms, only the study and the kitchen had to be regularly cleaned. That meant that most of my time was spent perfecting my cooking. Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Fatty Bolger, and Folco Boffin (two more of Frodo's younger friends) were only too willing to be my guinea pigs. I must say that I became very good at it, especially baking pies, and even in the Shire I was known as one of the best. Every year, I helped Frodo plan and prepare his birthday party, and every year, people came uninvited just for the food.

The year was now 1408 in Shire-reckoning, year 3008 everywhere else. It was seven years from the time of Bilbo's departure, and halfway through the time of peace before Frodo leaves, too. I knew from the books that Gandalf's last visit before his nine-year absence would be soon, or maybe it had already happened. He had visited a few weeks ago, not saying much, only asking how Frodo and I were doing, and begging a piece of pie from me. I happily obliged, for I knew that Gandalf's journeys weren't easy, even for a wizard.

As for Frodo and myself, we grew close in friendship, and, I admit, I began to fall in love with him. It's all fine and dandy to have a crush on an actor in a movie, but when you meet the person that the actor was portraying, it is an altogether different experience. For a while, you are in awe of them, and you do not like to seriously disappoint them. Then you begin to realize that they are just as human, or in my case, hobbit-ish, as you are. You get to be close friends, and then one morning you wake up and find that you can't wait to see him, to talk to him, to just sit and watch him eat or read. Every moment you spend with him becomes a little bit of paradise, especially in such beautiful country as the Shire.

I tried not to fall in love. I tried to remember that Frodo would go on a journey in nine years, a journey that would change his life and make him uncomfortable in Middle Earth. I tried to remember that I had my own life that I would inevitably be taken back to; for I had come to believe now that I had come for a purpose, and once that purpose was fulfilled, I would be returned to my own life. Try as I might, all the reasons not to fall in love with him were swept away the moment I saw him again, or when we shared a laugh. I eventually gave up trying not to fall in love, and instead resorted to hiding my true feelings as best as I could. I knew that there would be a time when Frodo would see through my thin mask and see the love I had for him, but for now I did my best to hide it.

As I said before, it was a beautiful fall day, and I was currently outside helping Sam plant some strawberries before winter. The wind was whistling over the hills, I heard children laughing as they played outside, and the earth was warm from the sun as I packed it down. "That ought to do it, Miss Delia. In the spring we'll be having some strawberries and cream, and maybe some strawberry pies, too, if you'd be willing."

I laughed. "Sam, I'll always be willing to make a pie." I laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "If ever I say that I do not want to make a pie, then you will know something is terribly wrong with me."

Sam smiled back. "Alright. Well, I'd best get these things home and get myself cleaned up before I come for dinner." He stood, and offered me his hand. I took it and hauled myself to my feet.

"Actually, Sam," I said, brushing the dirt from my knees. "I was thinking that we would go to the Green Dragon tonight. Almost four years here now, and I still haven't tasted the best beer in Bywater."

"Oh, of course, Miss Delia. That's an excellent idea. I'll double hurry now." And with that, Sam hurried down the hill with his wheelbarrow, taking care not to tip it. I smiled and went inside to tell Frodo. I had wanted, for some time, to meet Rosie, and this seemed like a good time. I found Frodo in the study, which was cluttered with its usual collection of maps and parchments, some covered with writings, some with drawings. Frodo was sitting in a chair by the window, looking out at the woods that dominated the view. "Frodo," I said, announcing myself. He turned to me, but his eyes remained far away for a while. Then he focused on me, smiled, and said, "Delia, hello."

"I though we might go to the Green Dragon tonight for supper, so that I can try Bywater's best beer and meet the hobbit-lass who has caught our Sam's eye." I had taken to calling him "our Sam" when around others. I just seemed to pick up hobbit phrases like that.

"That's sounds good. I'll go get ready." I nodded and left the study, Frodo right behind me. I went to my room and picked out a clean dress, laying it on my bed and went into the washroom to clean up a bit. I washed the dirt off my hands and knees with a wet cloth, then went back to my room and changed dresses. When I was finished, I went to the parlor and then outside, shutting the door behind me. Frodo and Sam were standing on the porch waiting for me, and I said, "Well, boys, let's go." Sam led the way down the lane, heading for Bywater and the Green Dragon.

As we approached, I could already hear the sound of songs and laughter coming from the open doorway of the inn. I could smell baking bread as well; must have been my baker's nose. Once we were through the door, we were swept up in the crowd. It was all we could do to make our way to the bar to order our drinks and food. Behind the counter was a she-hobbit; judging by her blond hair and the way Sam stared at her, I had to guess that she was Rosie. I called out, "Excuse me!"

She turned to me and smiled. "Welcome to the Green Dragon! I'm Rosie; what can I get for you?" Her eyes flicked from me, to Frodo, and then to Sam, who blushed when their eyes met. Her smile seemed to grow bigger.

"I'd like pints of your best beer for each of us," I said. "And a meal for three hungry hobbits."

"I'll have it right out," Rosie said with a wink at Sam. Frodo and I had to each grab one of Sam's arms and drag him away from the bar towards a table. Frodo and I sat him down in a chair, then Frodo sat beside him and I sat across from them both. I watched the crowd of hobbits mill around and talk to each other. The old men sat by the fire and shared all the latest news that they'd heard, and travelers, obvious by their clothes, sat by and listened to their conversations. Hobbits in their tweens flirted with each other, and the children sat on the floor, boys playing with wooden toys and girls braiding each other's hair. In one corner, a band played lively country music, and the hobbits nearby were all singing along and some were even dancing, adding to the hectic atmosphere.

Then Rosie arrived with our food, and I got to try my first drink of beer. OK, I have to be honest: I had had a drink or two at parties, but I'd never had a full pint to myself, and I'd never been drunk. But I knew that this beer would be different from anything I'd had on Earth, and I knew I should be careful on the first drink. I lifted the flagon to my lips and took a mouthful. I treated it a little like wine: I rolled it around in my mouth on the back of my tongue, then swallowed. It had a very mellow flavor, but a bitter aftertaste. It was a good drink nonetheless, and it went well with the dark bread, hard yellow cheese, and cold chicken that was our dinner. I noticed that Sam kept craning around to watch Rosie behind the counter, and I took pity on him. "Hey, Sam, switch me places."

He looked at me like he was startled, and then shrugged and stood. We traded places and he went back to staring at Rosie, though I doubt he knew he was staring. I looked at Frodo and found him staring at me, smiling. I smiled back, assuming he was smiling because he realized what I had just done. But when he saw me smile, he seemed to come out of a trance and his smile faltered a little. He turned away from me and back to his food, and I was left to ponder the real reason he had been staring at me.

It well towards midnight before we left, for many people came and insisted being introduced to me, the Shire's best pie-maker. What they hadn't known and marveled over is the fact that I was living with Mr. Frodo Baggins, who was as queer as his relative Bilbo. They told me these things in drunken whispers, which really could be heard two tables away. I just smiled and said it was a good paying job; this was hardly a lie because Frodo insisted on giving me money at the end of every month, even though we both knew that I didn't do it for the money. They nodded knowingly, saying that it had better be, or else I could be victim to being cheated of hard-earned money.

So it was easy to see why I was good and ready for bed by the time we started trudging up the hill. Sam hadn't worked up the courage to even say good-night to Rosie, but I noticed that she watched us as we walked away. We left Sam at Bagshot Row and continued up to Bag End. Frodo and I entered through the front door, and as soon as we stepped in, I knew that someone else was there. Gandalf's staff was propped against the wall and his hat hung on the peg beside it; we hurried to the sitting room, where we knew we'd find Gandalf smoking his pipe.

Sure enough, there he sat beside the fire, with enough smoke in the room that I knew he was on his second pipe already and had probably been there for an hour or two. "Ah, Frodo, Delia," he said as we came in. "I arrived while you were out, so I let myself in the side door. I also helped myself to some dinner and a smoke. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," I said as I opened the window to let some of the smoke drift out. "I'm sorry we weren't here to greet you and make you a better supper."

"No, no, it's fine. You will have plenty of time to make up for it, for I plan to stay two days here; there is much to talk about, and I haven't had a good rest in a while."

"Good, that's good. Well, I must say good-night to you Gandalf, for I have had much drink tonight, maybe too much, definitely more than I've ever had before, and I wish to be able to have full use of my faculties tomorrow while I am cooking for you."

"Completely understandable, Delia. Good-night." I turned and nodded to Frodo, who nodded back, and made my way to my room, where I promptly fell onto my bed without even changing into nightclothes.

The next day, I woke late. I got up slowly from the bed, stretching out. I hadn't really been drunk, but I was a little light-headed still, so I decided I'd take a bath before going out to make breakfast. When that was done, I did feel better, and I got dressed and went to the kitchen. As I suspected, not even Gandalf was up yet, and I set to making breakfast; the scent of sizzling bacon soon spread through the hobbit-hole. As I had thought it would, the smell brought Gandalf and Frodo to the kitchen. Gandalf looked as awake as ever, and he was still in his traveling robes. I wondered for a moment if he ever wore anything else, and decided that he didn't. Frodo, however, looked very tired, as tired as I had still been this morning. He was in his clothes from yesterday still, too.

"Good morning, Frodo. Good morning, Gandalf. Breakfast will be ready in about 10 minutes, so go ahead and sit down while I finish it up." I said all this while cracking eggs into the pan that I had just made the bacon in; it was an old trick to cook eggs in bacon grease and make them a little more flavorful. I heard chairs squeak as they sat down, and then 10 minutes later I was placing a tray of eggs and bacon on the table, along with a loaf of bread, butter, jam, and a pot of tea. No one really talks during breakfast, I've noticed. They're too busy starting the filling up for the day after a night of no food.

I cleared breakfast away while Frodo went and changed, and Gandalf went to the study, most likely to smoke and peruse the books Bilbo left behind. When the dishes were washed, dried, and placed back where they belonged, I went to go see Gandalf. He saw me come in and said, "Delia, come and sit by me."

I complied, pulling a chair from in front of the fireplace and putting it beside Gandalf's in front of the window. "It is a beautiful day," I said as I looked out the window.

"It is," Gandalf agreed. "Delia, how much do you know of what I seek?"

I hesitated, wondering what I should tell him. "Everything, Gandalf."

He nodded as if this was the answer he thought I would give. "As always, I do not know how long I will be gone this time. But I feel like I will be gone for a long time." I knew it; it was his last visit for nine years. "Will you keep an eye on Frodo for me, since you know everything?"

"Of course, Gandalf."

I must have said that funny, for Gandalf looked at me and said, "Is there something wrong, Delia?"

"No, why would you think so?"

"There was a queer note in your voice as you assured me. Are you and Frodo getting along fine?"

"Yes, we're fine." I was filled with a sudden urge to tell Gandalf everything. "Gandalf, I'm afraid that I'm falling in love with Frodo."

He raised his eyebrows and half-smiled. "Why is that something to be afraid of?"

"Because I know his story, and I'm afraid that by the end of it, he will be too changed to love. And I think I've been sent here to help Frodo, in whatever way; once I've helped him, what if I'm taken back to my world? I would have fallen in love and then been separated. I don't want to take that risk."

"But what if you do not go back when you have fulfilled your purpose, as you believe? What if you are allowed to stay here, and finish your life here? I think that your presence alone has already changed a great many things in this world. If I were you, I would not be so afraid of loving Frodo. Aren't there risks in all life? Would you not run a risk by loving someone in your own world?"

I considered what he'd said. As usual, there was wisdom and truth in his words. It was true that falling in love back home would be no different from falling in love here. What if I died before I could marry the man I loved at home? Would that be any different from having to leave Middle Earth while I loved Frodo? "You're right, Gandalf," I said.

"I usually am," he replied with a chuckle. "So are you going to tell Frodo that you think you are falling in love with him?"

"Um, no; not yet, at any rate. Just because I said you're right doesn't mean that I am sure that I'm going to tell him that I love him. There's still a great risk. But I will think about it."

"I wouldn't wait too long."

"I won't." Gandalf smiled at me again, turned back to the window, and continued to gaze at the landscape. I took that as my cue to leave, and I did. The beautiful day had given me an idea. Even though I'd spent four years here now, I still hadn't explored the Shire like I'd always wanted to. Since there was going to be a shortage of beautiful days coming soon, what with winter on the way, I decided that today I'd go out and do some of that exploring.

Even though I hadn't gone exploring, I had prepared for it by making suitable exploring clothes for myself: trousers and shirts, and even a cap to keep my hair out of my face. I had not cut my hair since arriving at Bag End, only trimming it to get rid of the dead ends. Having four years to grow, it now extended to the back of my knees. Even though it was difficult to wash and brush, and got in my way a lot, I loved my hair. But exploring would require more than just a hair band to keep my hair from catching on branches and bushes, so I made myself a cap. I put these clothes on now, and grabbed my pack. I took a few things I thought I might want, like a book, some parchment and charcoal for sketches (even though I wasn't really good at it, I still loved to sketch nature), and food from the parlor for my lunch. Frodo and Gandalf would have to do for themselves for elevenses and tea.

As I left Bag End, I stopped in the study once more and told Gandalf where I was going, in case anyone asked where I was, and said that I'd be home in time for supper. I took it as a good sign that he nodded and hmph-ed, and I went out the front door. I had to do a little climbing up the hill to get the woods that stretched out beyond the study window, but then it was all flat land as soon as I got under the trees. It was cool in the shade, and walking was easy with so light a pack. The sound of the woods was like a piece of music, with the birds singing melody and the wind playing background through the leaves. Then I heard a sub-melody: the rippling of a creek or stream. I followed this melody, and soon came upon a sheltered part of the creek, much like the crook of an elbow. There was a grove of willow trees beside it, and I was wary at first, remembering Old Man Willow from the books, then remembered that I was in the Shire, not the Old Forest, and these willows would do me no harm. So I climbed the largest one and found a comfortable perch; then I pulled out the parchment and charcoal and began to sketch.

I first sketched the little stream and the trees around it, making light marks for the willow-leaves. Then I saw a nest on a branch to my right, and there were two baby birds inside. Their father was soaring in the skies above me, and the mother was pecking the ground for worms, and so I drew the family: babies in a nest, mother getting food, and the father protecting them all. It made me think of how that could have been my family, if only a drunken man hadn't decided to go out for a drive that day. I felt tears come to my eyes, and I threw the parchments with the drawings into my bag and pulled out the book, letting the bag fall to the ground below me. I settled into my perch more and began to read.

It was The Adventures of Robin Hood, one of my favorite childhood books. It was easy to get lost in it at that moment because I was in the middle of the woods in the trees by a stream, almost a perfect place for the Merry Men's hideout. At the edge of my hearing a branch snapped, but I didn't pay attention to it; I was too engrossed in the book. Then I heard the rustle of parchment beneath me, and a voice said, "These are good sketches, Delia." At the sound of my name, I was snapped back to reality; I almost lost my balance on the branch as I turned quickly to see who had found me.

It was Frodo, and he had my sketched in his hands, the one of the bird family on top. I wanted to jump down and snatch them from his hands, as if he was looking at something private, but I realized it was irrational and instead rebalanced myself on the branch.

"I didn't know you could draw," he said, looking up at me.

"It's just a hobby. I'm not very good at it," I said with a self-depreciating gesture.

"It looks good to me."

"Thanks, Frodo."

"You're welcome. Mind if I join you up there?" He had put the parchments back into the bag and was now staring up at me with an expectant expression and his hand on the bole of the tree.

I shrugged. "No, come on up." Frodo climbed the tree nimbly, for a hobbit. But then, he was one of the thinner and taller hobbits there are. I won't go into detail about hobbit ancestors, but if you're ever interested, just read the appendices at the end of The Return of the King.

"How's your explorations going?" Frodo asked as he reached the branch next to the one I was on.

"So far, so good. I found this wonderful stream and grove, and decided I'd take a break for a while and do some sketches and read a little." I held up my book.

"What are you reading?"

"It's called The Adventures of Robin Hood. It's about a group of merry men who steal from the rich to give to the poor; especially from the king, who is very rich and corrupt."

"That sounds interesting. May I see it?" I hand the book to him, not thinking, but I remember as soon as he opens it and says, "I can't read it; what language is it written in?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot that you speak and write in Westron here. This book was written in English, the main language of the world I come from."

"Do you normally speak English?"

"Well, yes."

"Then how do you know Westron so well?"

I hadn't thought of that before; it had never occurred to me that I had to be speaking in Westron for the hobbits to understand me. "I don't know; I guess that whoever or whatever brought me here made me able to understand and speak the normal tongue of the land I was going to."

"Oh. Well, is English hard to learn?"

"Um, I don't think I could teach you how to speak it because to me it sounds as though we are speaking in English already, but I could try to teach you how to read it. I don't know how or why it'd come in handy, but I suppose I could teach you if you wanted me to."

"Yes, I would like it if you taught me to read and write in English. Would you like to learn to read and write in Westron in return?"

"Sure, Frodo. I've always found your style of writing interesting."

"Well then, let's get started." And so began our lessons in teaching each other the languages of our births. I found that Frodo was an eager and quick learner, and much faster than me at picking up English than I was at picking up Westron. By the second week, he was already writing paragraphs, while I still trying to remember which i's to single-dot and which i's to double-dot.


	8. A Battle, A Wound, and Eomer

**AN: Time for Eothela.**

Eothela awoke to the sound of horses whinnying and armor jangling. Then there was a loud knock on the door, and she heard her mother open it and speak with someone outside. A moment later, her mother came into her room, saying, "Eothela, there's been an orc raid. They are assembling a group to go destroy the orc camp; they've asked for your help."

"Of course," Eothela replied. She rolled out of bed and quickly threw on her trousers and loose-fitting tunic, using a thin belt to hold the tunic in place. Then she pulled her armor on with the help of her mother: her breastplate, pauldrons, and greaves. Her mother braided her hair and wound it around her head as Eothela pulled on her boots and put the shin guards over them. Then she stood and put her helm on, her mother handing her the twin axes she normally carried and the dirk she kept in her right boot. Once her armor was on, she went out to the stable, putting Jerran's tack on him as quickly as possible. She mounted up and rode out of the stable, stopping only at the front door to her house as her mother held out a piece of bread to her. Eothela took the bread and nodded to show her thanks, then turned to the front gates of Edoras, where the other Riders of Rohan waited to start out.

Eothela joined the ranks, looking for a familiar face. Then she noticed Eomer, the king's nephew, waving at her, and she walked Jerran over to him. "Where'd the orcs attack?" she asked him without preamble.

"The Eastfold, a small village there," Eomer said, pointing east. "After they plundered and burned it, they set out further east to a camp they've made on our borders. The king has told us to go wipe them out."

Eothela nodded. Small raids of this kind were treated thusly, with a band of Rohirrim riding out in pursuit to destroy. She had been in countless similar battles over the four years she had now been part of the cavalry of Rohan. Eomer had likewise been in those battles, and had many times fought alongside Eothela, preferring his father's sword to axes. Together they made a formidable team, and they had been become close friends over the years. It had first started when Eothela had noticed Eomer watching her while she trained. She had taken to watching him, too, and when they fought their first battle together, they had each saved the other's life, and so a fast friendship was born. Now they were always by each other's side, Eothela's twin axes twirling through the air while Eomer's sword made wide cuts. Together, they'd felled countless enemies, and it would be no different today.

They turned to the front as Grimbold, the man leading the troops, called out. The gates opened, and the riders at the front began to move their horses out, going in single file because of the small width of the gate. Eothela and Eomer were towards the middle of the group, but once they were out in the open, the riders formed a tight circle instead of a line and started off towards the Eastfold. They were going at a canter, hoping to get to the orc camp, destroy it, and return home by midday. The sun was just peeping over the horizon now, as it was, and Eothela knew they'd be able to make it. An hour and a half of riding led them past many other small villages, and soon they saw the smoke on the horizon that marked the village they were looking for, some fires still burning among the cottages.

The orcs hadn't bothered to cover their tracks much, giving the Rohirrim an easy path to follow. Eothela thought uneasily of the pursuit that had led to an ambush resulting in the deaths of her father, Eomer's father, and many others; apparently, Eomer was thinking of it too, because when she looked at him, he appeared nervous and anxious. She gave a small smile, hoping to show confidence despite the fact that she was as nervous and anxious as he was. She'd make sure to be double careful, and to watch both of their backs twice as much. Little did she know that Eomer was thinking the same thing.

The orc camp came into view another half hour later, and smoke was rising from it too, except that it was cook-fire smoke, not cottage-burning smoke. The Rohirrim split into four groups, one coming from each direction so that the orcs would have no where to escape to. As Eothela neared it, she urged Jerran into a gallop and pulled her axes from her belt, slipping her hands into the leather loops at the ends of each ax. As she steered her horse using only the pressure of her knees, she started to swing her axes in circles at her sides and slightly to the front, not so far forward as to hit Jerran in the face, but not so far back that they risked hitting his flank. As she drove Jerran into the ragtag line that the orcs put up as a defense, her whirling axes chopped a path through the enemy for Eomer, who followed through with his spear and sword, alternating as it suited him. As she lost momentum swinging her axes, Eothela slowed and dismounted, sending Jerran to the edges of the battle to wait for her. Then she quickly engaged the orcs in combat, face to face and on the same ground.

Eomer did the same with his horse, and he soon had his back against hers as he joined the fray. Eothela swung her axes, chopping the head of one orc off while disarming another. She brought them up and around in a fierce curve, finishing off the disarmed enemy with a two-ax cut. On the other side, Eomer had discarded his spear and started swinging his sword, parrying the blows of the orcs and thrusting at the vulnerable spots in their armor. He was an excellent swordsman, and he brought down five orcs in a row in one swift sequence. She did the Sam on the other side, but in a different way: as five orcs neared her, she brought her axes out to the sides of her, her arms outstretched, as if she was opening herself to their blows. Then, when they were in reach, she snapped her arms back to the front, bringing the axes in like a pair of scissors to decapitate the five orcs. All of a sudden, a burning sensation flared in her side and she cried out; looking, she saw that one of the orcs had gotten in a lucky hit as she'd killed his fellows. Eomer heard her cry and half-turned to her, shouting over the din of the battle, "Are you alright?"

"Just a scratch," she shouted back, lying. The cut was deep, despite her armor, and it was bleeding profusely. She tore a part of her right sleeve off, stuffing it under the armor over the cut so that it would staunch the flow, and she continued fighting. She was slightly more careful now when she did the scissor move, only letting two or three orcs get in range for it. Any more and she risked another cut. As it was, she was fighting one orc, and he was able to make a gash on her right arm, which she bound with more torn tunic sleeve after he was dead.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the battle was over. There were no more orcs to kill; they had all died or fled farther away. Grimbold ordered no one to give chase, and instead they started taking account of who had died of their men. It was a good battle: only two had died, and only ten injured, Eothela and Eomer included. He had gotten a knock on the head from an orc shield that had gone flying, and he had been stabbed in the upper arm as well. She was taking care to hide her wounded side from him, because she knew he would forget about himself and only help her, but his wounds were just as bad, and besides, he was more important than her, so it was more important that he get the treatment he needed. She cleaned his forehead with yet another piece of torn tunic wet with water from her canteen, and then wrapped it carefully with more cloth. She did the same with the cut in his arm, and then she let him tend to the cut on her forearm, still hiding her side. As they mounted their horses, a twinge of pain made her almost fall off, but Jerran was better trained than that, and he shifted his body beneath her to keep her on. She grabbed his reins, and set out, following the other Rohirrim as they headed back to Edoras.

Eothela rode on Eomer's left to keep her own left side concealed from his sight, but as they neared Edoras, he somehow got on the other side and finally noticed the large wound in her side. When he saw that, he pointed to it and said, "Eothela! Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"You are more important, and your wounds needed healing first. I didn't want you to worry about me," she replied. Or at least, that was what she had meant to say, but they came out slightly slurred; she was losing consciousness from loss of blood. Eomer noticed her pale face and slumped position, and was able to catch her in time as she fell sideways off her horse. He placed her on his horse in front of him and grabbed Jerran's reins, leading him back to her house. When he reached it, he left both horses outside and carried Eothela inside to her mother, who had been preparing a meal for her daughter's return. Now, though, she set to work on her daughter's wound, removing the cloth that had stopped the bleeding and examining the wound closely. It would need stitches, and she had Eomer fetch the thread and needle while she boiled water over the fire to cleanse the wound.

When she was done, she wrapped a clean bandage around the middle of Eothela's torso to make sure that the wound stayed covered, then rose and took the bloodied cloths out to the washtub. Eomer went back to the horses, who had stayed in front of the house the entire time, and led Jerran to the stable. There, he removed Jerran's tack and rubbed him down, putting fresh hay and water in his stall. Then he returned to the house one last time to speak to Eothela's mother.

"Frieda," he said, calling her by her name. "Will Eothela be alright?"

"Yes, Eomer, she will be," Frieda replied. "She's lucky you noticed her wound when you did, or otherwise she might have fallen and had a nasty bump on her head to go with that orc cut. Thank you."

"It's the least I could do. She's been there for me, and so I was there for her." He shrugged. "It was right."

"Of course it was."

"Well, I'll be going now. Will you tell me when she gets better?"

"Certainly. She should be awake in an hour or so; you can come back then, if you like, and join us for supper."

"I will do that, Frieda." Eomer left the house and mounted his horse, taking it to the stable. Meanwhile, Frieda went about continuing to make supper, and it was only half an hour later that Eothela regained consciousness and looked around.

"How did I get here?" she asked her mother when Frieda came to check on her.

"Eomer caught you as you fell off your horse, and he brought you here to me. He helped me clean you up, and he'll be here for supper later. Why didn't you tell him about your wound earlier, so that he could have helped you better?"

"He is far more important than me, being the king's nephew and foster son. I tended to his cuts and scrapes, knowing that you'd be able to heal me up when I got home. I hadn't counted on losing consciousness as I rode to you."

"Well, you can be glad that he loves you as he does, then. Otherwise you would have fallen and hit your head, and who knows how much more messed up you would be." Frieda had been joking with the last statement, but she wanted to see how Eothela would react to her first.

"He doesn't love me. He's only my friend."

Frieda turned away, smiling. "Oh, he may be your friend, but he does love you, more than is required for friendship."

"I don't believe you." Eothela turned her face to the wall, trying to hide from her mother.

"Eothela, I have been in love, and I know how a man looks at you when he loves you. Your father used to look at me the same way."

"Well, Mother, he hasn't said anything to me, and even if he does, the fact is that I have no intention of marrying yet. Besides, he is a year younger than me, and not near as good at fighting as some other men."

"Alright, Eothela. I was just telling you that you seem to have an admirer. Even though he was the first, he won't be the last. There will be others, and you need to know what you are going to say to them if you do not fancy them as your husband."

"Alright, Mother, I'll consider what I'll say." Her mother seemed satisfied with that, and Eothela was left to ponder her words. There was a sense of anxiety now that Eomer would ask her to marry her. She was eighteen years of age now, and he was the king's nephew; he could ask her to marry him any time he wanted to. And would she refuse him? She thought she only loved him as a friend, but now that she considered, she wasn't so sure. She hoped that he would not bring it up any time soon, and that he would give her time. She really didn't know what she'd say.


	9. Escorting the Lady Arwen

**AN: And Ningloriel once again, that beautiful elf.**

Ningloriel shifted in her saddle for the fifth time in ten minutes, then decided she'd get down and walk for a while. While she loved horses and respected them, she never had enjoyed riding much, preferring her own feet or the trees. But now she was escorting the lady Arwen Undomiel back to her home in Imladris, where her father Lord Elrond was anxious to have her safe at home. It was easy to tell which of the many elves was Arwen, for she had the dark hair and eyes of the elves that lived in Imladris while her escort was all Lothlorien elves, with light hair and eyes. Ningloriel could only guess that Lord Elrond's hair and eyes would be dark as well. She wondered briefly why Arwen hadn't been more in the middle when it came to features, for her mother had been an elf of Lothlorien; namely, her mother was Celebrian, daughter of Galadriel. But then, some children took more after their father than mother, and that seemed to be the case with Lady Arwen.

As Ningloriel dismounted, Arwen called out, "Is everything all right, Ningloriel?"

"Yes, milady. I am only stretching my legs, for I do not like to ride as much as I like to walk."

Arwen laughed, a fair sound. "Well, then, would you come walk back by me? I have wish to talk to you."

"Of course." Ningloriel stopped walking and held her horse in place while Arwen continued to ride towards them. Then, when they were side by side, she resumed walking and leading her horse.

"My grandmother tells me that you do not love a man, elf or otherwise," said Arwen. It was a statement more than a question.

"She tells you correctly," Ningloriel replied. For a human, the fact that Galadriel had told someone else what Ningloriel had entrusted to her would have made her angry. But it didn't bother her.

"There is none that you love, none that are suitable to you?"

"None, milady."

"Have you searched further from your home? Have you gone to your cousins in the Mirkwood?"

"No, I haven't. It has been long since I visited Mirkwood last. I believe that I haven't been there since it began to be called Mirkwood, in fact."

"Maybe if you journeyed there, you would find a suitable man."

"Maybe, Lady Arwen, maybe. But I defend Lothlorien, and I cannot take a pleasure trip to Mirkwood while there is still danger on the borders."

"When all the danger is gone, and you are not needed to defend Lorien, then will you go?"

"I hope that there is never no danger. I would not know what to do with myself if there was no danger in the world anymore. My purpose would be fulfilled."

"I see." They went along in silence for a while, Arwen riding, Ningloriel walking, and then Ningloriel said, "Lady Arwen, do you love someone?"

A slight blush rose on Arwen's pale complexion, and she smiled, saying, "Yes, I do love someone." Before Ningloriel could ask who it was, Arwen said, "His name is Aragorn, also known as Estel, son of Arathorn and heir to the throne of Gondor."

Ningloriel's eyebrows raised, and she said, "You love a Man?"

"Yes, I do. While I was here, he visited. You may have seen him pass the borders; I know now much gets by you." Ningloriel nodded, remembering the man who had entered Lothlorien not long ago. He had been tall and dark, with weather-beaten clothes and complexion. But there had also been a sort of nobility to him, a dignity that she knew came with being a Ranger of the North.

"He and I plighted our troth upon the hill of Cerin Amroth; he gave me his ring, the ring of Barahir." She held out her hand to Ningloriel and she saw the ring on her finger: it was two silver snakes wrapped around each other, one biting the other's tail, and both had emeralds for eyes. She knew enough about the history of Men to know that the owner of the ring was the heir of Isildur, last king of Gondor; this Aragorn really was noble.

"I am happy for you, milady," she said as Arwen drew her hand back. "He seems a good man. Does Lord Elrond approve?"

Arwen's smile disappeared as she said, "He sees no hope for my future with Aragorn. He says he sees only death and sorrow."

"I am sorry, then."

"It is fine, Ningloriel. I will still love him." Ningloriel nodded, and there was silence as they rode and walked together. After three hours of walking, Ningloriel remounted her horse and returned to the head of the riding group. They had made good progress today, having been on the move now for almost the whole day, and having now reached the borders of Rohan. They would stop here for an hour, and continue on to the Gap of Rohan. Then they would continue through Hollin and finally reach Rivendell, which is the other name for Imladris. She raised her hand and called out for the group to stop and rest. She heard the whinnying of horses as they were stopped, and the sound of elves dismounting. She dismounted her own horse and sat down in the grass with some lembas bread and water. Lembas bread was like way-bread, but specially made by the elves. One bite could fill the stomach of a grown Man; as such, Ningloriel only ate half of a piece. Now she could go for another twelve hours without food. She sipped water as she watched the rest of the elves sit down and eat; she also kept watch on the edges of the camp for enemies and unwanted visitors.

They were camped under the boughs of the forest of Fangorn, where of old elves had awakened trees. As she listened, Ningloriel thought she could hear the trees talking among themselves still, although she could hardly imagine what such ancient beings could be discussing. Rising, she went to a tree and placed her hand on its large trunk. There was a faint thrumming sound coming from inside, but otherwise it seemed a normal tree, and she nimbly climbed to its highest branches to keep watch for the hour. Her gaze swept across the horizon, and from afar she saw smoke rising from what appeared to be a village. Further away, there was a little cloud of smoke, almost invisible even to her eyes, that marked the passage of a group of horses; it was most likely Riders of Rohan going to avenge the village. She let her gaze sweep away again, and she looked upon the mountains that rose to the north. She knew those mountains well, for she had often chased orcs and other evil things up to their crags and cliffs.

The hour passed quickly, and soon Ningloriel was remounted and calling to the others to follow suit. When she saw that all were mounted, including Arwen, she set off in the lead again, making for the Gap of Rohan. It was going to be a long night, followed by another hour's rest and another day of riding. She settled in for the ride.

**Please review. This makes nine chapters and only four reviews. Surely someone is reading this and has some opinion or another on it. I don't care if it's constructive criticism or whatever, just please review! Thanks.**


	10. Answer: Love

**AN: Back to me.**

Gandalf went when he said he would, and fall progressed. I helped Frodo plan and pull off another birthday party of his. I don't mean to brag on myself, but every year we'd have to turn people away at the door because we had only planned for a certain amount of people; the extras only came to have some of the food I made. It was the 5th birthday I'd helped him plan, and he was now 40 years old. It made me consider how old I would say I was if someone asked. It was a good thing too, because someone asked me.

I was making supper, and Frodo was helping by peeling potatoes. I had told him that I didn't need any help, but he insisted. While he was peeling he asked, "Delia, how old are you?"

I was a bit shocked, but I answered, "I don't know exactly. I was a human before I came to Middle Earth, and humans age differently than hobbits. Before I came here, I was about to turn 21, the age that many consider to be the beginning of adulthood. I myself think that most humans aren't really mature until age 25. If I were still human, I would be 26 this year, an adult. So I think that I am 33, about to be 34, in hobbit years; I have only just become an adult."

He considered this. "I would have thought you were almost the same age as me. You certainly do not act like many of the hobbits I knew in their 30's, myself included. "

I laughed. "Well, thank you, Frodo. That is a high compliment."

He smiled. "When is your birthday?"

"February 28th. But please, I don't want a big deal made out of it. I am not a very social person."

"Alright. No big parties." We continued making dinner.

Winter passed, and slowly my birthday arrived. I was glad that I would have no big party, and when I went to sleep the night before, I doubted that I would have any celebration at all. So when I woke late the morning of my birthday to the smell of eggs, mushrooms, and bacon, I was confused to say the least. I normally woke with the sun, but my window had been shut and the curtains closed during the night, and I could only guess why whoever did it would want me to sleep in. I rose and dressed quickly, then headed for the kitchen.

A great cry of "Happy birthday, Delia!" went up as I entered, and I was shocked to see Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and even Holly standing there. They ushered me into the seat at the head of the table and then took their seats around me: Frodo and Sam on the left side of the table, Merry and Pippin on the right, and Holly across from me at the foot. Holly said, "We wanted to give you a surprise for your birthday, and so you slept late while I made breakfast. I hope you enjoy it." Then we all dug in, and there was silence as we ate. Then Holly asked, "Delia, how old are you exactly? I don't believe you ever told me while you were at Brandy Hall."

"I am 34 years today," I said between bites of mushrooms.

"Ah, not much younger than Mr. Baggins here," she said with a wink.

I took care to ignore that comment and focus on my bacon. When breakfast was finished and the dishes were cleared, each of my five friends placed a gift on the table for me. The first was from Holly: a large cookbook filled with "all the best recipes of the Shire" she assured me, although "there aren't any pie recipes, for you need no help there."

Next was Pippin's gift: a fine stationary kit, complete with quill pen, ink well, normal pen with exchangeable nibs, and the finest white paper.

Merry got me something similar, only the paper in his gift was already written on and bound together: books! There were books on the history of the Shire, books on the native plants, and books on the native animals.

Sam's was more like to Holly's: he had gathered the Shire's best spices for me. They each had their own little glass bottle, and the bottles were arranged alphabetically on a wooden rack.

As I received each gift, I thanked each friend with a hug. Then I realized that there was one more friend who had yet to give me his gift. I turned to Frodo, and he handed me two things: a journal the size of a school textbook with a light green leather cover, and a small box that jewelry comes in. The box held a necklace; the chain was pure silver, and a single pendant hung on it: a dark green stone fashioned in the shape of a heart. "It was my mother's," I heard Frodo say as I admired it. "When she died, I inherited it. I gave to you because I thought it would suit you."

I loved it, but I said, "It is too precious to wear all the time. I will only wear it on special occasions."

"As you wish. I hope that a special occasion will come soon, so that we can see how it suits you." I agreed, and hugged Frodo in thanks. As we parted, Holly said, "Well, I am going to make a special birthday lunch for you, to be had around tea time. Until then, you can do whatever, although I know you will be devouring the new books you have gotten." I smiled and nodded, heading off to my room with my gifts in my arms.

I did, in fact, spend all the time between breakfast and lunch reading the books, as well as I could, anyways, seeing as I didn't quite know all the words. I quickly learned, however, that when a book said "Plants of the Shire," it mostly meant the various types of pipeweed grown there. The history of the Shire did prove interesting, however, and I spent the most time deciphering those books.

I was made aware of the time by a knock on my door and Pippin's voice calling, "Delia, your birthday meal is ready!"

"I'll be right out," I called back, placing a piece of spare parchment between the two pages of a book I had been reading and closing the book. I walked quickly to the kitchen, where the other hobbits were already waiting for me. Frodo had brought out a couple bottles of wine, and one of these he had already uncorked and was pouring wine into each glass. Holly had outdone herself, making an entire ham with ten different side dishes and plenty of desserts. It was a happy meal, with plenty of singing and talking and wishing me a happy birthday with every round of wine. I noticed that only Holly, Frodo, and I took care in drinking the wine to prevent getting drunk; the other three had half a dozen glasses each by the time the meal was over.

Frodo escorted Sam to his home after lunch, while I helped Holly clean up, despite her protests about it being my birthday. Once everything was put away, I said good-bye to her, Merry, and Pippin, who were sitting in the back of the wagon they had come in waiting for Holly to take them home. I bade them have safe travels, and then Holly started the wagon for home. I watched them go, and then went back inside to grab something before I headed out to the woods to savor my birthday.

I was sitting on the ground against the bole of my favorite willow by the stream. My new green journal was in my hand, one page already filled with words describing my birthday down to the last detail. I also used one page to draw a picture of the necklace Frodo had given me; it was still in box, laying beside me on the grass. I stared at it, and then reached out for it. Removing it from the box, I went over to the stream and looked at my reflection as I put the necklace on. But it wouldn't go on; either my hair would get in the way, or my finger would slip and I'd lose hold of the tiny clasp. Then I felt hands on mine; they took the necklace from me, clipping it in place. I noticed a reflection in the stream, and turned around to make sure it was who I thought it was. I was right: Frodo stood behind me; he had been the one who had clipped my necklace for me.

"I knew it would suit you," he said. "It's perfect; it brings out the green in your eyes."

I nodded, having seen my reflection. "It is perfect." Then I did something I hadn't meant to do: I threw myself into his arms. It seemed I surprised him as much as I surprised myself, for his arms didn't go around me immediately. But when they did, they were warm and comforting, and I felt like telling him right then and there that I loved him. Before I could get to that, however, he pulled away slightly to look at me, and then he kissed me.

I won't go into detail because each person has their own right to privacy, but I will say that it was worthy of the "Best Kiss of the Age" award. When we finally broke apart, he looked at me and said, "Delia, I love you." And I almost said I loved him too, but then I remembered who I really was, and why I was there. So I said, "I love you, too, Frodo. I really do. But, I'm afraid that our love will be for nothing."

He looked at me, confused. "Why would you think that?"

I sighed. Time for the big explanation. "I think that the only reason I'm here is to help you on a journey that you will be taking soon. It will be a journey that will change your life, for good or for bad. But I'm also afraid that when your journey is over and I have helped you all I can, I will be taken back to my own world, and everything we could have had together will be lost." I looked at him warily as he took in what I said.

"You are afraid of us being separated, and our love being lost?" he finally said.

"Yes, Frodo. That is what I fear." I expected him to let go of me, but instead his arms tightened around my waist.

"Do not fear that. No matter what end the journey will bring, we will still have our love. Don't you know that love crosses all boundaries? If you are taken away, back to your world, that is only more incentive to love each other right now."

I shook my head. "Frodo, no matter how much I love you or you love me, I could never ask you to risk that much. I could never agree to marry you, either. I couldn't ask you to do that; I doubt I could even face that risk myself. I don't want to get hurt; I don't want to live my life in my world knowing that I had love, and then had it brutally torn from me."

"But could you live your life knowing that you could have had love, and you chose not to have it because you let your fear rule you?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Which do you think is the better choice: having love while you can, or having known you could have had it but letting fear rule you?"

"Having love while I can is the far better choice," I admitted.

"Then put aside your fear and do not be afraid to love me. I will not ask you to marry me, nor will I ask you for anything other than your lips and love. Does your culture believe that it is wrong to have relations outside of marriage?"

"Some still hold that rule, although most, especially younger people, have no such qualms. But I adhere to that rule."

"Good; we hobbits do not approve of relations outside marriage, either. So with those guidelines and no fear, will you love me, Delia Brethilwen?" He gazed intently into my eyes as he asked this.

I gazed fearlessly back as I said, "Yes, Frodo Baggins, I will love you."


	11. My Secret Weapon

With my fear addressed and mostly laid aside, my relationship with Frodo deepened. We weren't exactly lovers, but you couldn't call us just friends either. As the years continued to pass, we became like a married couple, except that we never did what married couples do. Yes, I moved into his room and we shared his bed, but we never- I swear- never went past kissing. We had a silent agreement on that.

Also, as the years passed, I felt a growing darkness, even though the days in the Shire were mostly sunny. Maybe it was that I could feel the presence of Sauron returning to Mordor and the tower of Barad-Dur, or maybe it was because I knew that Frodo would soon be leaving the Shire to go into danger. Whatever it was, I felt a pressing need to be able to defend myself when the time came, for I had already made up my mind that I would follow Frodo on his journey, even to Mordor. I knew that later I would most likely receive a small dagger, just the right length for a hobbit-sword, from Tom Bombadil, but I had never used one before, nor would I be able to practice with one while at Bag End, so I needed to find a better way. I decided, after some thought, to use a ranged weapon, but a bow was out of the question because I did not know how to use one of them. I was sitting by the stream, thinking of this, when I noticed the almost perfectly round pebbles on the bottom. And I had an idea.

In the books by Tolkien, he says that hobbits have a good arm and eye for throwing, hitting most any mark they aimed at, even from long distances. I decided to supplement my throwing arm with a sling, furthering the distance and power. To make one, I took one and half meters of pliable leather that was seven and a half centimeters wide and I cut it down. Ten and a half centimeters in the middle I kept at seven and a half, but on either side of that I gradually thinned it, cutting it down to one centimeter wide. The ten and a half in the center was where I would place the stone, and the rest would be the cords that I swung it by; I also made one side longer than the other to ease the release of that side without letting the whole sling fly. On the outside of the sling I did some fancy stitching, putting elvish symbols and patterns on it.

When I wasn't using it, I would wear it as a hair-band, either using it to make a ponytail or hold it out of my eyes by wrapping it around my forehead and over my hair. The biggest part of the sling would always be seen, whether in top of the ponytail or in the middle of my forehead. The double-purpose of the sling was to keep the fact that I was armed a secret. Even the stones I would use would be hidden; I would sew a leather pouch and hang it on a string around my neck, putting it under my shirt to conceal it.

Once the sling was finished, I set about practicing it. I went back to the stream and plucked a pebble from the water. I dried it on the grass and placed it in the center of the sling. Then I began to swing it in a circle in front of me, parallel to my body at first, then slowly bringing it up to be horizontal over my head. When I thought I had swung it enough, I let go of one cord, expecting the stone to go flying meters in front of me. Instead, I heard a thump behind me, and I turned around to see the stone only a meter away. I stood puzzled for a moment, and then I realized that I must have let go of the sling while it was behind me, and for the stone to go forward, the sling had to be released while coming forward. I picked up the stone again, and repeated the process, being sure to release it on the forward motion. This time it did go forward, and I picked up a third time, this time aiming specifically for a tree about ten meters from me. When I released it, the stone went forward, but it fell five meters short, and even if it had gone all ten meters, I knew it would have missed the tree and gone a meter to the right. I fixed the distance problem by swinging it faster, and it made it to the tree; in fact it went further than the tree, a good ten meters beyond it.

By the time the sun was falling beneath the horizon, I was hardly better than when I had begun. I had managed to hit a tree five meters away, but that had been more luck than skill. I decided to call it a day, both because there would be no more light in a matter of minutes, making it harder to hit a target, and because my stomach was making the worst possible noises, a sign that I was hungry. I threw the pebble back in the stream, wrapped the sling around my head with the wide part on my forehead, and headed back to Bag End.

As I entered the front door, Frodo came around the corner looking worried. "There you are Delia," he said. "I was wondering where you were. I was worried something had happened to you."

I laughed and said, "I was just at the stream and lost track of time. Besides, what could possibly happen to me in the Shire?" As I said the last sentence I grimaced mentally; soon a lot could happen while still in the Shire.

"I don't know. Maybe you fell into the stream and drowned, or fell from the willow and broke a leg. I was just worried about you is all."

"Well, I'm just fine. I made home in time to make supper, didn't I?"

"A very late supper," he said as he took me in his arms.

"Well, one late supper won't hurt," I replied. I leaned in, but instead of kissing, we just put our foreheads together. Frodo pulled back when he felt my head-band. "What's this?" he asked as he touched it.

"Oh, a new head-band I've made for myself. My hair's so long now that it is always in danger of falling in the food I'm making." I extricated myself from his arms and turned to the kitchen. He followed behind me.

"I like it," he said as he sat down at the table to watch me make supper.

"Good," was all I said in return, and then I was too busy with making supper to continue talking. I made a pie, which was what I usually turned to for a quick dinner, for I had gotten so good at making pies that I could stew the filling while I made the crust, and then the gravy was made while the oven heated, and then it all went together and was done in less than 30 minutes. As I took the pie out of the oven, Frodo said, "I do believe you've just set a record. That was the fastest I've ever seen you make a pie in the time you've been here."

"Well, we were both very hungry, and there's no point in doing something slowly when you know you can do it quickly."

"I agree." I set the pie on the table, cut out two pieces, put them on plates, handed one to Frodo, sat down with the other, and we ate. Together half the pie disappeared, but then we were both full, and I covered the rest of the pie with a cloth; it would be good for breakfast and save me having to cook something new. I washed the plates and forks we'd used, dried and put them away, and then went to get ready for bed.

When I was in bed and Frodo's arms were around me again, I fell asleep wishing that he didn't have the One Ring, and that the years would pass slowly.


	12. Emotional and Physical Hurt

The year of 1418 by Shire-reckoning was upon me before I could fully enjoy the time between. It was February, closing in to my 44th birthday, and it wasn't until after it that I remembered what year it was. That thought alone was enough to bring me into a foul mood for a week or two. Then I snapped out of it and realized that Gandalf would be coming, and everything would change when he returned. I wanted to make the most of the time I had with Frodo before Gandalf's news sent him off. But even though I tried to remain my normal self, something must have shown through, because while I was sitting in the study staring at the window, Frodo came up behind me and said, "Delia, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing, just thinking," I replied, although it hurt to lie to him.

"You're lying, Delia. Something is bothering you; I can see it when you look at me." He moved to stand in front of me, forcing my gaze to him. I saw worry etched into his face, and I knew that worry was for me. That hurt me more, because of all the people to be worrying about, he should be worrying about himself.

"Our time is almost spent, Frodo. Once April arrives, Gandalf will visit, and the news he brings will begin your journey." I glanced down, unable to look at his face any more.

"Why will our time end? Will you not come with me?"

"Of course I'm coming with you! But the journey won't be easy, and it won't be enjoyable."

Frodo's hand lifted my chin, making me look at him again. "Delia. No matter what journey I go on, I will still love you. Nothing will change that. Not even a journey that will change my life in other ways will change the love I feel for you."

"I know, but it will be different for me. I know how the journey will end; I know everything that will happen to you. You may say that you will still love me now, but what about when your journey is over, and you've gone through it all? Even just the knowledge that Gandalf is bringing will change you."

"Delia, it doesn't matter. Don't you trust that I will love you?"

"Of course, Frodo, you know that. I just- oh, I can't explain it!" I rose and ran from the room, out the side door, and into the woods. When I reached the stream, I tore the headband from my hair and grabbed a handful of stones. One by one I loaded and emptied the sling, hitting each target I aimed for. I had spent the last nine years practicing, and by now I was expert at it. I could also move quite quietly when I wanted to, and even unseen sometimes. I collected all the stones and climbed a tree this time, slinging the stones from my precarious perch among the highest branches. When again all the stones were gone, I sat back on the branch and took a minute to calm down. I don't know why I couldn't explain to Frodo why I was so sad that the time was coming that Gandalf would return. I don't why I had gotten mad, but I was glad that I had run before letting my anger loose.

I heard footsteps below me and then someone was climbing the tree. I knew it was Frodo and that he couldn't come up as far as I had, but I remained where I was. I still wasn't ready to talk to him again.

"Delia," he called up when he'd reached his climbing limit. "Delia, come down and talk to me." When I didn't respond, he said, "Alright, stay up there. But I'm not going away until you are going with me." And true to his word, Frodo settled on a branch and stared up at me. Half an hour passed, and then an hour, and finally an hour and a half before I relented and climbed back down to where he sat. "Finally," he said as I landed softly beside him and crouched there. "Are you going to tell me why you left in such a hurry?"

I sighed, and picked at a leaf that was to my left so that I could avoid looking at him as I said, "I was angry."

"Why were you angry?"

"I was angry at myself for not being able to explain why I was sad about the fact that Gandalf was coming back soon." I still kept my head turned away.

"You shouldn't be angry at yourself; you are just over worried about me. I can see that in your eyes as well when you look at me."

Even that couldn't make me turn and look at him. "Can you see everything I feel when you look in my eyes?"

I heard a smile in his voice as he said, "Yes, Delia. You are an open book when you are around me."

"I ought to learn to hide them better then, if I am to follow you into unknown places with unknown dangers. Emotions can be the downfall of many." His hand reached out to my face, as it had in the study, and it pressed against my cheek, turning me to face him.

"Then let them be my downfall," he whispered. My heart twinged; no, really, it felt like my heart had been quickly squeezed inside of my chest when he said those words. I didn't resist the kiss that followed.

After what seemed like an hour, we parted, and he said, "I saw some of that slinging you did. I should have known you would make a simple headband into a deadly weapon like that; I also should have known you'd become an expert at it."

I smiled and glanced down, saying, "Aw, whatever. I am no expert. I've seen better."

"Really? You're the best I've seen. And the best-looking."

I laughed and gave him a little push, completely forgetting that we were in a tree and that he wasn't good with heights. The little push knocked his balance off just enough that he fell. He let out a little exclamation of surprise as he fell backwards, arms flailing for some sort of handhold. In that split second, I grabbed his hand and tried to keep him up, but my other hand slipped from its grasp on the branch and we both fell. I twisted in mid-air, trying to get under him so that I would take the brunt of the fall; it was, after all, my fault he was falling. Thankfully it was only a ten foot drop, but it still hurt when I landed hard on a protruding tree-root. It didn't help that our heads collided with the impact as well.

Frodo raised himself on his elbows, his eyes slightly dazed from the collision. Then he shook his head and looked down at me. "I fell first, so I should be the one with my back to the ground. How did you get there?" he asked.

I tried to answer, but the wind had apparently been knocked out of me, and it took me a few seconds to respond. I eventually got out a choked, "I twisted so that I would hit the ground, and you would be slightly cushioned." I took a deep breath.

He tilted his head, puzzled. "Why would you do that? You knew you would bear the full fall if you did."

"I did it because I didn't want you to be hurt." There was a slight twinge of regret now, because I was almost certain I had cracked a rib, or at least bruised it very badly. But it was only a small twinge.

"Delia," Frodo said with a sigh and a shake of his head. It was obvious that he was exasperated, but why I wasn't so sure.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"I can take pain just as much as you can. You didn't have to do that."

"I know. I wanted to, though."

Frodo rolled his eyes. "Well, let's get home then, now that we're both out of that tree. Can you stand?"

"Pshh, 'course I can," I said with false confidence. I was soon proved wrong: I couldn't stand. My ribs just hurt too much. Frodo nodded, as if he knew that I couldn't, and he stooped down, picked me up in his arms, and carried me to Bag End, gentle as ever. "You know," he said on the way there. "I've been thinking of a better explanation of why you would put yourself under me. I think you just wanted more attention."

I didn't object, because we both knew it wasn't true, but it was funny to go with it. But Frodo didn't let up. "Yes, that'd be it. You were longing for more attention, and you really wanted me to carry you in my arms. You know you could have just asked?" I laughed then, and he laughed too.

When we got back to Bag End, he carried me to his bed, and told me to wait while he went to find a doctor. It was only ten minutes when he was back with a little old hobbit-lady. She shooed him from the room, shut the door, and pulled my blouse off to examine me. She tutted quite a lot when she saw my back, and I asked what was wrong.

"You've got a bruise the size of watermelon on your back, lass," she explained. "What did you do?"

"I fell, from a tree, and landed on a root."

"Aye, that will do it." I also had bruises on my torso from the ribs that had cracked; the doctor confirmed they were cracked. She pulled a couple bottles from her pack and rubbed the contents of one into my bruises. Then she gently pulled the covers up to my chin and called Frodo in to explain everything to him. Apparently I was to stay in bed a good four weeks to allow the ribs to fully heal on their own and for the bruises to fade. The bottles held an ointment that would reduce the pain of the ribs and the bruises; it should be applied twice daily for best results. Then she left, and Frodo came to sit beside me on the bed.

He shook his head and chuckled. "What?" I asked.

"You. You look so pitiful, just lying there. And here you thought you were going to be my protector. Who needs protecting now?" I tried to sit up, but a flash of needle-like stabbing pains went through my back and ribs, and I fell back onto the pillows with a gasp. "Alright, alright, you aren't pitiful," Frodo said quickly as he leaned over, concerned. I managed a small laugh. "Maybe I am, Frodo," I said with a smile.

"At least it isn't serious. But I'm going to miss your cooking for four weeks."

"I'm sorry. But there's one thing you won't have to miss."

He raised his eyebrows. "What's that?"

"Just because I'm confined to bed doesn't mean I can't kiss you." He smiled, and kissed me.

For me, the four weeks passed slowly. I couldn't wait to get out of bed and back to practicing with my sling. Frodo couldn't either, but for different reasons: he wanted me back in the kitchen cooking. Merry, Pippin, and Holly visited me a few times while I was confined to bed, and wished that I get better soon. There was one interesting thing that happened while I was bed-ridden: Frodo found my recorder.

It was the beginning of the second week, and Holly had just been by to help me take a bath and change the clothes I had been wearing since we'd fell. I was now only wearing a pair of short trousers and a loose tunic; the outfit would make it easier for Frodo to apply the ointment. My dress was collected by Frodo, and as he picked it up to take it to the laundry, my recorder fell out of the pocket. He picked it up and looked at it funny. "What's this?" he asked, forgetting about the dress and dropping it back on the floor.

"Oh, that's something from my world. It records sounds and can play them back, too," I replied.

"Have you been recording everything?"

"Yes; I keep it in my pocket all the time. It's recording this conversation that we're having right now."

"Really?" Frodo looked at it, then said something completely unexpected. "Delia, when you listen to this, remember that I love you."

I said nothing, just stared at him. "What?" he said.

"Nothing. It's just that I don't know when I will listen to it again. I could never listen to it."

"Well, you can still keep that reminder for later."

"Alright, I will."

Frodo set the recorder on the bedside table, picked up the dress again, and left the room.

The rest of the four weeks was boring, and there's nothing recorded that is worth sharing right now. April arrived, and I was able to get up and walk around again. The first thing I did to celebrate was cook a big meal, complete with pies. Merry, Pippin, and Sam all joined; Holly was not able to come because of something to do with her family. All the while, however, I kept expecting Gandalf to show up knocking on the door. He would arrive any time now.

To prepare, I started to clean the room that was always set aside for Gandalf along with the others I cleaned; I knew for a fact that Gandalf would be staying a long while after he arrived. Otherwise, I tried to remain normal, despite that planning for the beginning of Frodo's journey would begin soon. I even expected Gandalf on the day that Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo, and I went to the Green Dragon for a drink one night. It was like the scene in the movie, with Merry and Pippin up on a table singing drinking songs and dancing. Frodo, Sam, and I sat at a table with the Gaffer and Ted Sandyman and his father. When Frodo and I returned to Bag End, I looked for Gandalf, but then realized he wasn't there.

It was a week after that when he arrived. I was cleaning up after supper when I heard Frodo exclaim "Gandalf!" and run to the front door to let him in. When Frodo led him into the kitchen, I greeted him warmly and asked if he wanted anything. He refused, and I took my leave. I knew what they would spend all night talking about, and I didn't particularly want to stay up to listen to it. I would be expected to make breakfast of course, so I wanted to get some sleep.

The next day, once Frodo and Gandalf had finished talking and scaring the wits out of Sam, I entered the study to talk to them. Frodo looked up at me as I entered, and the sad look on his face confirmed the fears I'd had a month earlier. "Delia," he started before I could say anything. "I know you said you would go with me, but I don't want you to. This sounds too dangerous, even for you, who knows what will happen. I was reluctant to even agree to take Sam."

I cut him off before he could say anything else. "Frodo Baggins. I am coming with you, whether you allow me to come willingly or I have to follow you. I know everything there is to know about your journey; if anyone would be a help to you, it would be me."

Frodo opened his mouth, but this time Gandalf cut him off. "I agree with Delia, Frodo. She can help more than Sam will be able to."

Frodo looked between the two of us. "Well, I suppose I'm outnumbered, aren't I? I have no choice. You'll come with me Delia. I do suppose your right, though, Gandalf; Delia will be better able to defend me should enemies beset me. She has mastered the use of a sling that she keeps cleverly concealed as a headband. She' wearing it right now, in fact, if you'd care to look."

Gandalf looked closely at my headband and said, "Indeed. I am glad for it. You will face many dangers on your road, not the least of which being enemies that need besting."

I smiled. "And I'll be ready to best them." Gandalf didn't smile, but his eyes twinkled, and I turned to go. Then I remembered that I had wanted to talk to Gandalf by himself, and I turned back. "Gandalf, can I speak to you alone?"

"Certainly, Delia." Frodo rose from his chair and offered to me. I smiled at him and sat down, then waited till he was gone to say, "His path will not be easy. He doesn't realize the full extent of it yet."

"I know. That is why I am glad you are going with him."

"I know what end this will all have."

"You've told me this."

"Your own road from here will be as hard as his. Plans you make will not work out, and you will be forced to leave him helpless."

"Even so, I am not worried. The fact that you know all this will make up for whatever goes wrong in my plans. I trust you, Delia, to make the right choices, to do what's best."

I nodded. "I told him how I feel about him."

An eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "And?"

"He loves me, too. We have agreed that we are more than friends, but that we cannot get married."

"How has that worked out?"

"It's fine. Once I was mad because I was sad that you were coming back, because I knew that with your return you would bring change, and I didn't really want anything to change. But I got over it, because I realized that change is good sometimes."

"So it is. I am glad that you are not angry any more. Is there anything else you would like to tell me?"

"Yes, just this: I'm so glad that you are here. You are the only one who can truly understand what I am feeling right now. You know things that are going to happen as well. I'm just grateful that you're willing to listen, too."

"What kind of a wizard would I be if I didn't listen to and help those who need me? I am more than happy to give you the help you need, Delia."

"I thank you. That's all, though, so I'll go get started on tea." He smiled and I rose and left the room.

Gandalf was there for a few weeks, and then he left on his own journey. Soon, Frodo told me of his plans to sell Bag End and move to a little house at Crickhollow, in Buckland. I agreed, and helped him make the plans. We sold Bag End to the Sackville-Bagginses, who were eager to get their hands on it. The news soon spread like wildfire over the Shire, and everyone would ask me questions about it when I would go to the market to buy food. About that time, Merry, Sam, Fatty, and Pippin all approached me about Frodo's move, which I knew they would.

They were forming a conspiracy: Merry and Pippin knew that Frodo was most likely going to leave the Shire entirely, and they were determined to go with him, as was Sam. They asked me to gather information, like Sam was, but I refused to do that. I did give them my approval, however, and they went away happier for it. July came, and a little bell went off in my head: Gandalf had tried to send a letter to Frodo to tell him to leave no later than July, but it hadn't reached him because of the forgetfulness of the innkeeper at the Prancing Pony. I considered telling Frodo myself, but I decided not to purposely change something like that; the fact that Frodo had stayed with his original plan had brought no additional harm to him on his journey to Crickhollow. So July came and went, and then August, and then September and Frodo's fiftieth birthday.

The last of Frodo's belongings that hadn't been sold with Bag End were loaded up into a cart that was to be driven to Crickhollow by Merry, Fatty, and I. Frodo had insisted that I ride with the cart; he didn't want me in more danger than was necessary. I agreed this one time, and went with Merry and Fatty. The trip was relatively short, and then we had to wait for Frodo, Sam, and Pippin to arrive on foot. It was a long one-day wait for someone who knew what was happening.


	13. The AllKnowing Stranger

Ningloriel slowed her horse as she neared Rivendell. This time, she had taken the road through the mountains, passing the forest of Mirkwood and the Gladden Fields. As she rode through the Gladden Fields, she picked one of the flowers to which she owed her name: a ninglor, or a golden water-flower. Another name for it was a gladden, and the reason why these fields were called the Gladden Fields. She braided the flower into her hair and continued on. She reached the pass in the mountains, her path intersecting the Old Road. It led on to the east, towards Mirkwood. As she looked briefly there, she could see an elf stopped just at the edge of the forest. That would be the delegation from King Thranduil of Mirkwood; Galadriel had said that he was sending his son, Legolas. She would have stopped to greet him, but she had to get to Rivendell with the news she had as soon as possible. She turned her horse's head to the mountains and began the slow climb upwards.

A day and a half later, she rode down the other side of the Hithaeglir, more commonly known as the Misty Mountains, and into view of Rivendell. She greeted the watch guard as she rode past him, and then went to the stables. She gave her horse to the groom and quickly found her way to Lord Elrond's chambers. She knocked, remembering courtesy, and she heard his voice call "Come in." Ningloriel entered, and he turned to face her from his seat on the balcony. "Ah, Ningloriel. I should have expected this. Galadriel always sends the best to gather the information."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond. I also have information for you that the lady thought would be best heard in person."

An eyebrow raised, and he said, "Well, what is this information?"

"Someone has entered Middle Earth that will change what is about to happen. This person knows the fate of Middle Earth, but she is unsure of how to use the knowledge that she has."

"She?" he interrupted.

"Yes, she. Already she has changed much in this world; Lady Galadriel says that women will play a larger role in what is to come then they would have if this visitor had not arrived."

"I see." Elrond mused, then said, "Does Galadriel know anything about why the visitor is here, or how she got here?"

"No; she only knows what she sees in her mirror. The rest is to be interpreted by others."

"Does she know who the visitor is?"

"She said that the visitor is in the form of a halfling, but that she was a human before she came to Middle Earth."

"Hmm. This visitor needs to be tested. Where is she?"

"The Shire, but when you have your council, she will be there. Galadriel says that she will come with the one who bears the Ring."

"I see. When she is here, then we will see if she is dangerous or not. But for now, make yourself at home. You will be here for many months before the council is held, and you will want a place to stay. My daughter, Arwen, will show you." He pointed at the door.

Ningloriel turned to see Arwen standing there with a smile on her face. "This way, Ningloriel." Ningloriel smiled back and followed her to the rooms. They were light and airy, though not as high and secure as she was used to. But she didn't comment on that; she only said, "These are wonderful, thank you." Arwen smiled and left, and Ningloriel was left to put away the things she had brought with her from Lothlorien. It would be a long three months.


	14. Gandalf and Boromir

Eothela was standing guard at the gates, a regular chore for the soldiers living at Edoras, when she saw the old man come walking up. He was tall, but hunched over, and he leaned heavily on a gnarled walking stick as he made his way up the steep slope towards the gate. This was the second time that he had come to Edoras, trying to get in to see the king, and Eothela was determined to help him this time. The other soldier that was supposed to be keeping watch with her had taken a quick trip to the privy, and this was the time that she would use to get the man in.

She knew that he was no ordinary man, however. He was a wizard, one called Gandalf, and it was because of this that he was not to be allowed into Edoras, by order of King Theoden. But Eothela knew the king was being corrupted by Grima Wormtongue, a servant of the traitor Saruman. Gandalf had explained all this to her when she had gone out to see him last night. Now that she was thus enlightened, she was willing to help Gandalf get in to see the king. As he neared, she said, "Quickly, Gandalf! The other guard will be back soon."

"I am coming, Eothela," Gandalf replied. He reached the gate soon after, and she opened it for him, pointing the way to a dark alley. "You'd best stay hidden until you get up to Meduseld itself. There may be guards who will know that you are not supposed to be here. But I can't help you get into Meduseld to see the king; I have to stay here until my shift is up. You'll have to find your own way, I'm sorry."

"That is fine. Thank you for the help you could give me." Gandalf disappeared into the alley, and not a moment too soon, because just as she had closed the gate back, the other guard returned. "Any trouble?" he asked.

"No, no trouble." _Not yet_, she added in her head.

The next day, Eomer came to see her. Since he had been made Marshal of the Mark and taken up his father's patrol of the east marches, he had had little time for pleasantry visits. As such, it had been a long time since he had been to see her last, and she was happy to see him again. "Eomer, how are you?" she said as she opened the door and invited him in.

"I am fine, Eothela. How are you?"

"I am fine as well. Does being Marshal of the east marches suit you?"

"It's alright. I enjoy leading my troops; they are good men, and good fighters. Though I have yet to see any ax-fighters as skilled as you."

"I will take that as a compliment," she said as she motioned for him to take a seat at the kitchen table. He remained standing, however, and she copied him.

"I meant it as one. Eothela, I am not here to spend time chatting. King Theoden knows I am close to you, and so he told me to give you his orders."

She heard emotion in his voice, and recognized it as sadness. The memories of a few years ago came flooding back. She and Eomer had been riding together, off duty, and had stopped to have lunch beside one of the only streams in Rohan. Somehow, talk had turned to marriage, and the next thing she knew, Eomer was proposing to her. Eothela had refused, and because she didn't know how to react, she had leaped onto her horse and rode away, leaving Eomer kneeling in the grass and staring after her. Their friendship after that had been strained, that moment by the stream always hanging in the air around their heads like a buzzing fly. She had been a little relieved that he had left, but she hadn't realized how much she'd missed him until he arrived at her door. Now the awkwardness was back, and she knew that it was hard for him to be here.

"What are his orders?" Eothela said flatly.

"He wants you to ride to Rivendell and be a part of the council that is to be held soon. Lord Elrond of Rivendell has sent out messages to all Free Peoples, but you will be the only one from Rohan. You will be the only representative, and you must represent your country and king well."

"Of course. When do I leave?"

"Today, as soon as you can. You should not be late, and the king is not sure exactly when the council will be held. Therefore, it is better to be early than late, which means you must go soon, in haste."

"Of course," she repeated. Simple instructions, but haste was necessary. Eomer turned to go, and she went with him to the door, but before he could go, she said, "I'm sorry, Eomer."

"For what?" he replied as he turned sad eyes on her.

"For the day with the stream."

"I'm sorry too." And he turned away from her.

Eothela watched him until her mother's voice jolted her back to reality. "Well, stop staring at him and get packing."

She turned to Frieda and said, "Oh, Mother, I didn't hear you."

"You wouldn't have heard a cave troll the way you were fixated on him. But that doesn't matter; you have places to go, and you need to get packed."

Eothela nodded, and she helped her mother fill two small packs with things that she would need. In one went her clothes and blankets. Frieda insisted that she take a dress, even though Eothela only wore one for special occasions. "You are going to an Elvish council, Ella; do you not think that is a special enough occasion?" She had to agree, and so a crimson dress was packed beneath her spare trousers and tunic, and her blankets. The other pack held enough food for a month's journey, for that was how long it would take to reach Rivendell from Edoras, as well as three waterskins. When she was packed and ready to go, she saddled Jerran and tied the packs to either side of his rump. Ella mounted, riding out of the stables. Before she left, her mother stopped her and said a final good-bye. Frieda put a handful of simbelmyne in one of Ella's braids, and then Ella rode away. She didn't look back.

When she had left Edoras far behind, she spurred Jerran into a gallop, riding over the fields of Rohan like she had done when she was younger. She kept the gallop going for half an hour; when she stopped and finally looked back at Edoras, it was only a small bump on the horizon that glinted where Meduseld reflected the sunlight. She walked Jerran to give a chance to get his breath back, but before long they were galloping again. Ella was reminded again that Jerran was an exceptional horse; he had to have Mearas blood somewhere in his line. It took a lot to tire him, and he recovered from fast and long runs quickly. She was glad for his abilities.

She traveled like that, galloping for a while, and then walking him, and then galloping again. So it was that she had ridden a good twenty miles by the time that she stopped for the night. To her left was a small grove of trees, having sprung up around a natural well but stunted by the winds that would rip across the plains. She decided to take shelter there tonight, and so she slowed Jerran and had him walk to the grove. As she headed there, Ella noticed a shape in the encroaching darkness: it appeared to be another rider heading for the shelter of the trees and the free water of the well. She loosened one of her axes at her belt but continued riding.

Eothela reached the well before the other rider, and so was forced to wait for him to approach and announce himself. She removed both axes from her belt and set them on each side of where she sat, then used her flint and steel to start a small fire. It would be a cool night tonight, and the fire would be nice, but it would also tell the strange rider that she didn't fear him, as would the axes at her side. She pulled dried fruit and meat from her food pack, along with a waterskin, and sat down between her axes again. She heard the clomp of the horse's hooves as it neared, and then they stopped and she heard the heavy sound of a large person dismounting. They continued and stopped again. She could see the silhouette of the person as he tied his horse to a tree at the edge of the firelight.

He stepped into the firelight then, and Eothela finally got a good look at him. He was tall man, noble, with dark hair and gray eyes; even beneath his leather armor and clothes of fine cloth, she could see that he was well-muscled and fit. His clothes said something else about him: he was a foreigner, and was royal, or wealthy, for his clothes were of high quality and were engraved with a symbol she didn't know. The sense of foreignness and royalty was further confirmed by his accent and the way he talked as he asked, "Hello stranger. May I join you at your fire?"

"Certainly, stranger," she replied.

He settled down across from her, and then said, "Well, may I ask who you are?"

"As soon as you tell me who you are."

He laughed. "Alright. I am Boromir, son of Denethor II, of Gondor. I am on my way to Rivendell if you care to know."

She cocked her head to the side slightly. "I am Eothela, shield-maiden of Rohan, and I, too, am on my way to Rivendell."

"Really. That is an interesting piece of information. What takes you to Rivendell?"

"The lord of Rivendell, Elrond, is holding a council for all Free Peoples soon. My king asked that I go and learn what I can."

"I see. I go for guidance and counsel; it seems that I will find it in great supply there."

"Indeed."

They were silent for a while longer, studying each other. Then Boromir spoke again. "It strange to me to see a woman wearing armor and carrying battle-axes. In Gondor, only men are allowed to fight."

"There are no such biases in Rohan. Women can be as good at fighting as men can, and sometimes even better. That is how I came to be in the cavalry of the Rohirrim; I was only fourteen, and yet I was able to defeat a soldier twice my age. I have only gotten better since."

Eothela saw him raise an eyebrow. "Really? Then those axes are not just for show?"

"I can demonstrate on you, if you wish."

"Maybe sometime later." Silence again, then, "It seems as though we have a common destination. Would you care to travel with me? Traveling in groups can have its advantages."

She considered his offer. It would be better to travel with him, so that there could be sleep for the both of them. Alone, they'd each have to stay up all night to keep watch; together, they could do shifts. "Alright, I'll travel with you, Boromir."

Even though she couldn't see his mouth, Eothela could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "Wonderful. This journey has been dull; it will be good to have a companion."


	15. Tom Bombadil

**AN: I feel the need to put a disclaimer here, because I'm about to use some Tolkien singing and some things that he wrote. Hope you enjoy it.**

It was a cold, drizzly day in the Shire, and the ride through the Old Forest wasn't helping.

Let me go back a bit. Frodo, Sam, and Pippin arrived at Crickhollow, not the worse for wear, three days after Fatty, Merry, and I had arrived with the cart. I had told them to keep most of the clothes and everything packed, because I knew Frodo would want to leave as soon as was feasible. While they were eating a little supper, complete with the mushrooms from Mrs. Maggot, Merry and Pippin exposed the conspiracy and told Frodo that they were coming with them.

Frodo had argued a bit, but I was able to persuade him by saying that he would need them all on his journey. Then I had helped Merry pack up the last of the things and we all went to bed.

Now here we were: it was cold, raining, and we were in the Old Forest, which was bad because the trees have minds of their own in those woods. We had just reached the first fold in the terrain; it was a deep gully that led to the River Withywindle. The boys had a mind to go down into it and then climb back up the other side, so that we would stay on course in heading for the Old Road. I, on the other hand, knew that the forest would just have more and more of these gullies, and that we'd eventually reach one that couldn't be climbed out of and we'd be forced down to the Withywindle. I didn't particularly want to spend half the day climbing into and out of gullies and getting dirtier and wetter than I already was, and so I said, "No, I think we should just follow these gullies. Obviously the forest doesn't want us to go where we want to go."

Frodo looked at me and said, "Are you sure, Delia?"

"Yes, I am sure," I replied. "Even if we do climb up and down these gullies, we will still be led down to the Withywindle. Why fight it? Let's just go there."

"Alright, you know what's best," answered Frodo, and we all turned our ponies to follow the gully. Another hour's trek brought us to the Withywindle itself, and what luck was ours but that there was a path already laid out for us to follow. The others were wary of it, but I knew it was just Tom Bombadil and I didn't say anything. We soon reached a part of the stream that was wider and deeper, and there was a large old willow tree at the edge of it. I could hear a voice in the wind, it seemed, singing of sleep and rest. Even though I knew what was responsible for the singing and that it was a trap, I still found my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. I fought to stay awake, but I found myself sitting beside Merry and Pippin against the willow, and then I was asleep.

The singing grew louder, and it invaded my dreams. The dreams themselves were already strange enough; I do not remember any details of them, all I remember is that they were very strange and frightening. Then I heard Sam's voice in my sleep; it came as if from a long distance, but it was enough to wake me up. As I woke up, I realized that I have trouble breathing. It only took me another second to figure out why. The willow had pulled me into it while I leaned against it, and now I was trapped, being slowly squeezed to death inside. I knew Sam and Frodo were on the other side of the tree, outside of it, and were trying to figure out how to get Merry, Pippin, and I out. I started to kick, to see if that would help, completely ignoring the fact that it wouldn't. In fact, all my kicking seemed to do was make the willow squeeze faster. I let out an involuntary scream as it crushed my left hand; through the pain, I could hear Frodo start yelling too.

And then a new song began. It was nonsensical for the most part, and consisted mostly of the repeated lines "Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!" Here is the main part of the song that I heard from inside the willow:

"_Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!_

_Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!_

_Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!"_

I knew who that was. It was Tom Bombadil on his way with his lilies for Goldberry. He stopped singing as Frodo approached him to ask his help, and then I heard him singing into the willow. It was a song to encourage Merry and Pippin, and I heard Merry start struggling against the willow. Then Tom picked up a branch (this I knew from reading it) and started to beat it against the tree and said, "You let them out again, Old Man Willow! What you be a-thinking of? You should not be waking. Eat earth! Dig deep! Drink water! Go to sleep! Bombadil is talking!" As he finished, I felt the tree heave, and I was thrown back out of the tree, as was Pippin, while Merry had been pulled out by Tom.

We all thanked him, and he invited us to his house, saying to follow him as fast as we could. He started off, and we tried to follow, but he got far ahead. Then his voice called back to us, saying to follow the path we had found, and that we'd come to his home soon enough. I took the lead because I knew the way from the books, as usual. It was just beginning to get dark as we reached the bottom of the little hill that Tom's home was in. It was much like a hobbit-hole, but a bit larger and more like a grass covered house than a hole. We climbed the milky-white path to the front door, which at that moment opened and we heard Tom singing again, along with the most beautiful voice I have ever heard. It was Goldberry, the River-daughter, wife of Tom Bombadil. As their song ended, we reached their door and were swept inside.

We all stood before Goldberry, and she was the most beautiful of all beings I had ever seen. Even the elves really couldn't compare with her. A radiance shone from her that me speechless. But Frodo was not as mute as I, and he burst forth into poetry praising her beauty. I was instantly jealous, even though I knew that he would have said the poetry whether or not I had been there. There was a sick satisfaction in hearing him stumble over his words. Then Goldberry said, "I see you are an elf-friend; the light in your eyes and the ring in your voice tells it. And you are not from this world; though you already love it and will be loathe to leave it when the time comes. But you are as much an elf-friend as your companion, and you will have a great impact on our world." The last two sentences were directed at me, and I felt a little better. I also had hope now that maybe it would all be explained to me. But it wouldn't be now, because now Goldberry said, "This is a merry meeting! Sit now, and wait for the Master of the house! He will not be long. He is tending your tired beasts."

We sat in low chairs and watched Goldberry set the table with food and flatware; even for me, her quick grace was enchantingly beautiful. Frodo asked his question about who Tom really was, and Goldberry gave her confusing answer about "He is" and being Master. I still spend time trying to figure that one out. Then Tom himself appeared, we freshened up for dinner, and we ate. The clear drink that was poured for us opened up our voices, and we found singing easier than speaking. Dinner didn't end for a while, for even though we all ate much, there seemed an endless supply of food to fill us. When finally we were done, Goldberry and Tom cleared the table away and we sat in chairs by the fire. Goldberry said good-night and left, and we sat with Tom around the fire a bit longer. There were a few questions that he answered, and then we were led to our room with beds laid out for us. There were only four, because our hosts knew that Frodo and I normally shared a bed. It was a bit uncomfortable for me to lay beside Frodo with the others in the room, but as long as I kept my face to the wall, I was able to forget that they were there.

I had only one dream as I slept, and it was a long dream. There wasn't much to it, just the song of Old Man Willow, and then it was overtaken and pushed back by first Tom's song, and then Goldberry's sweet voice joined his. It was a good dream, and I woke refreshed in the morning. That day I got the chance I wanted to talk to Tom about myself and why I was here. We were sitting around the fire again, for it was a very rainy day, and Tom had just finished telling stories to us, stories that spanned ages and ages of men and elves. When he was finished, we had dinner, and then we again sat in the chairs; Frodo asked, "Master, who are you?"

"Eh, what? Don't you know my name yet?" Tom often talked like this. "Eldest, that's what I am. Mark my words, my friends: Tom was here before the river and the trees; Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first acorn. When the elves passed westward, Tom was here already, before the seas were bent."

I had read him saying those lines so many times, but I hadn't really grasped it all until I heard his stories myself and met him. If anyone knew why I was here, it would be him. That's why I asked, "Master" (for we all called him Master) "do you know anything about why I am here?"

"No, I do not know why you are here, only that there is power in what you know. More power than in that little trinket Mr. Frodo carries. Let me see it!" Frodo gave him the Ring, and even though Tom put it on, he didn't disappear. Then he made it disappear, and Frodo exclaimed, afraid it was gone. Then Tom handed it back to him, but I could tell that Frodo was unsure that it was the real Ring. I leaned over to him and said, "Yes, it's the real Ring." That was enough for Frodo, for he nodded and put it back into his pocket. There was more talking, and then we all went to bed again. That night, I only dreamed of Goldberry's singing.

The next dawned, and we knew it was time to keep going. Our ponies were saddled up again, and we set off, with direction from Tom. At the next to last hill, we stopped, for Frodo was distressed that he hadn't gotten to say good-bye to Goldberry, but then she appeared on the top of the hill before us, and we climbed up to greet her. "Speed now, fair guests!" she said. "Hold to your purpose! Make haste while the sun shines! Farewell, Elf-friend, it was a merry meeting! And farewell, Delia, familiar stranger in this world. Do not worry over-much on things that trouble you." And with that we mounted our ponies and rode down the hill, leaving behind fair Goldberry and her home with Tom Bombadil. As I rode away, my jealousy faded quickly, and soon I was wondering why I was jealous of her anyway. We all turned as one at the beginning of a valley, and waved one last time at the River-daughter who stood singing on the hilltop.


	16. No Love for Eothela

Eothela urged Jerran to go faster. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw that Boromir was catching up, only slightly, though. They were in a race to pass the time going to Rivendell. The finish line was a tall pine at the border of the old land of Hollin, and she was winning. As she reached the tree, she stood up straight in the stirrups and pumped her arms over her head in victory. Then she slowly brought Jerran to a halt and turned him around to watch as Boromir finished last on his far slower horse, King.

He rode up to her, grimacing and out of breath. She smiled and laughed, and he couldn't keep his grimace for long. He burst out laughing too, and when they finally got control of themselves, he said, "Well, you seem to be the best at everything. You've bested me at a game of chance, the wild animals love your voice the best because they come when you call, you can run faster than me, and now you've beat me in another race, this time with horses. What can't you do?"

"We haven't tried out one-on-one combat yet," Ella said as she dismounted to make camp.

"I wasn't going to ask you to fight me. I could hardly hit a lady."

"I am not a lady," she said indignantly, her hands on her hips. "And what if the lady strikes the first blow?"

"Well then I might be able to put aside my honor for a few moments and fight the lady."

She laughed. "You'll have to put aside your honor for more than a few moments if you are to fight this lady."

"Alright then," he said, obviously intrigued. "As soon as we're rested from the race, we'll start."

"You mean, as soon as _you're_ rested up. I could have gone for miles and still not be winded."

"Alright, alright." He laughed. "In all my life, you have to be the most interesting woman I've ever met."

"That's the first compliment I've heard from your mouth."

He shrugged. "It happens sometimes."

She just shook her head and set to making a small fire against the coming cold. They took food from their packs and sat in companionable silence as they chewed tough jerky and drank stale water. "Well, I'm rested now, so we may as well fight now," Boromir said as he took a last swig from his waterskin.

"Alright," replied Ella. She'd been sitting crossed legged waiting for him to finish eating, and she rose eagerly, removing her axes from her belt. He drew his sword, and then they were fighting, their motions almost too swift to see. Ella's twin axes swung circles around her body, blocking and redirecting his attacks to land harmlessly in the dirt. But then he got used to it, and he became tricky. He used different thrusts and cuts, keeping her on her toes. Halfway through, she realized that he was much better than Eomer had been when they had last fought, and that Boromir might actually beat her. The though only made her fight harder.

But he had greater size and strength, and he began to wear her down as her arms tired from the endless block and parry. She hardly had a chance to go on the offensive herself. Suddenly, he twisted his wrist as he brought his sword around again, and it caught on the curved top of her right ax, sending it flying. She blinked in amazement; no opponent had ever been able to make her lose her grip on her axes, much less completely take one away. She wasn't going to give up though; she still had one ax, and that was enough to take down her opponent. She started giving two-handed swings at his legs and lower body, but he parried them easily and then his wrist twisted again, and her second ax went flying in the opposite direction of the first. Boromir halted his movement, saying, "Well, you are disarmed. I suppose I have won."

"On the contrary, I am not completely disarmed. Were this a real battle, and you a real foe of mine, I would have taken out the knife in my boot and thrown it into your exposed neck as you moved to deal the killing blow." Eothela pulled out her boot-knife to prove her point, and then re-sheathed it.

His eyebrow raised in appreciation. "Well, then it seems you have won."

"No, neither of us have won. There is only one way to end this, and that is to take leave of all weapons and armor and have an honest wrestling match."

"A wrestling match? With a woman? That is almost slanderous!" The look on his face was so comical that she broke out laughing.

"I promise to go easy on you," she said with a smile.

Both of his eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. "_You_ go easy on _me_?"

"Yes."

"Very well." They both removed all weapons, and then the wrestling began. It was going good, with neither one able to get a one-up on the other, and then, ten minutes in, Ella looked into his eyes at the exact same time that he looked into hers. All movement stopped as they stared, breathless, into each others eyes. She was the first to come back to reality; she detangled herself from him and got up. She turned her back on him purposely, trying to ignore his eyes boring into her back. She wanted to get away from his eyes for a moment, and so she mounted Jerran bareback and rode away. Boromir called out her name, but she ignored it and kept riding.

Her hair flew out behind her, and she was reminded of the days when she would ride Jerran to get away from the grief of her father's death. Now she was riding to get away from the love she felt. She was on a journey for her king, this was no time to be falling in love. Especially since the man was a man of Gondor and the son of the steward of Gondor, no less. She stopped and shook her head to clear it; she noticed the simbelmyne fall from her hair. She hadn't realized that it had stayed in her braid for so long, but she didn't want to lose all of it. She caught some of the falling flowers in her hand and turned Jerran back around to go back to camp. The flowers had reminded her of how she'd left her home, and the sadness in Eomer's eyes. Boromir was no different from Eomer, and she would have to keep it that way.

She dismounted when she arrived at camp and she sat down near her belongings. When she looked at Boromir, she saw that he had a single flower of simbelmyne in his hand; it must have fallen during the wrestling. "Did they come from a suitor?" he asked. Eothela knew what he meant, but still she asked, "Pardon?"

"The flowers in your hair. Did they come from a suitor?"

"Oh, no, they came from my mother. She braided them into my hair before I left. She and I are close."

"Ah." There was silence. "Do you have suitors?"

"I used to have one. But I refused his hand."

"Why?"

"I do not wish to be married yet. I still have a life as a soldier before me, and how can I do that if I have a husband and I am expected to raise a family?"

"Understandable," he said, although the way he said it made it seem as if he didn't really understand. "Would you care to explain why you rode away just then?"

"I just needed to think for a while."

"Right then?"

"Yes, right then." Boromir's eyebrows rose, but Ella studiously ignored him and focused on carefully placing the flowers she had saved in a small pouch that she then attached to her belt. "Oh, and I forfeited that fight, so you won, Boromir." He started to protest, but she cut him off. "Earlier you were complaining about me besting you at everything; enjoy this one victory while you can." With that, Ella proceeded to make dinner. When Boromir muttered something about earning a victory, she just quieted smiled to herself.


	17. A Fight With Legolas

Ningloriel stood on the balcony attached to her room and leaned against the railing, studying the trees. Rivendell really was beautiful in the fall: all the leaves were red, gold, orange, and dark green, with a back drop of a beautiful sunset. The waterfall was as full as it had been since the spring, and she could see the last of the sunlight reflecting off of its leaping waters. Then another sound met her ears: the sound of elves sparring. She looked down, and saw Legolas, son of Thranduil, practicing with his twin knives against a Rivendell elf. Earlier she had heard the thump of arrows against a target and knew that he had been practicing his shooting. As an elf, his aim should be perfect, but there was always room for improvement. Now he was practicing with his knives, improving there.

As she watched, he disarmed his opponent and held one knife against his neck, and one against his chest. Then he stepped back and held out his hand to the elf, who took it in sportsmanship. The Rivendell elf walked away, but Legolas stayed and continued to practice, going through the movements against invisible foes. A smile came to Ningloriel's face as a thought crossed her mind. She would test his hearing and awareness. She was already dressed in her fighting clothes and her sword hung on her belt, and so all she added was her specially made cloak that would enable her to blend in with anything. Then she climbed onto the railing of her balcony and looked for the closet tree. When she spotted a good branch, she carefully calculated, and then jumped. She landed lightly and silently on the branch.

She ran lightly along the branch in a crouch, jumping from branch to branch like a squirrel, getting closer to the branch directly above the place where Legolas stood. When she reached the tree that the branch was on, he looked up, but she had seen signs that he would do so, and she had hugged the tree a moment before, using her cloak for camouflage. When she knew he gaze was redirected at the invisible enemy, she crouched down and grabbed the branch she was standing on, then lowered herself till her feet touched the next branch. She repeated the process, going from branch to branch, as silent as a shadow. Indeed, she looked no more than a shadow in the fading half-light of evening.

Ningloriel finally reached the final branch, and here she stopped, looking for the right moment. As she waited, she drew her sword, silent as ever. She was left-handed, and so she grabbed the branch with her other hand as she watched him. There; his back was turned. She chose that moment to drop down. As Legolas turned back around, he was coming with a round cut, meant for his imaginary opponent; by the time he noticed Ningloriel, it would be too late for him to stop the cut. She knew this, and that's why her sword was there already, blocking it. There was surprise on his face, and she grinned at him as she turned away his second knife, set for an underhand cut. Then she brought the offensive, doing a fast sequence of cuts and thrusts that were more to test his defenses than to actually hurt him.

It turned out that Legolas' defenses were fine, if a little weak compared to Ningloriel's. As he parried or dodged each blow, he gave a little, inadvertently backing up to the tree from which she had dropped. She started another sequence; this one put less power into each blow, but it had far more total blows than other sequences. He was able to block most of them, but one got through and sliced a hole in his sleeve. If she had wanted to injure him, the cut would have gone deeper than cloth, and he knew it. As she started the same sequence again, he anticipated and managed to block them, even taking an opening and going on the offensive. But she had seen the slight muscle movement and repositioning of his feet that had indicated it, and she moved seamlessly from her offensive sequence to an impenetrable defensive sequence.

He tried to swipe her feet from under her, but she saw his eyes shift from her face to her legs, and she jumped a second before he swiped, doing a flip and a half barrel roll over his head and opening a hole on his shirt's shoulder. As he turned to face her again, she slipped her own foot between his and tripped him up. His hands went out to catch himself, and she caught one, pulling it behind his back. He landed on his knees, and she forced him to his stomach, grabbing his other arm and pinning it with his first under her left knee as she knelt lightly on his back. Then she let a small blade slip from her right sleeve and she held it under his chin.

"Give up?" she asked, her left arm stretched behind and at a forty-five degree angle to her body, parallel to the ground.

"Yes," he said, his voice muted by the ground. She released him and removed her knife from his throat, standing and moving to the right. Legolas stood and faced her, brushing the dirt off his clothes. "You fight well for a woman," he said.

"I was trained by my father first, and then the lord Celeborn finished my training. I learned silent and unseen movement in the woods of Lothlorien. I have spent thousands of years defending the borders of Lorien."

"I see. The years have paid off."

"You aren't so bad yourself. Even though I surprised you, you didn't let it delay your attacks. That will be handy in real combat."

"Thank you. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood."

"I know who you are," she said with a smile.

"Well, then you have the advantage of me."

"I am Ningloriel Hithchen, hand-maiden to Galadriel and emissary from Lorien."

"I am pleased to meet you, Lady Ningloriel." He bowed his head at her and she inclined hers back.

"The pleasure is mine, but please don't call me lady."

"Alright."

There was a moment of silence, and then she said, "I am going to return to my rooms to prepare for dinner."

"Of course. I was about to do that too. I'll see you at dinner." She turned and scaled the nearest tree, heading back up to her rooms. She could feel Legolas' eyes on her until she jumped lightly over the railing.

As she changed into an elegant gray dress, Ningloriel pondered her fight with Legolas. She could read people very easily, and he had obviously been impressed with her skill at sneaking up on him. Then he had gotten a good look at her face, and his expression had gone from impressed to enraptured. He had become taken with her. Good thing she already knew how to deal with suitors.


	18. Bree

**AN: I'll be using some of Tolkien's own words here, so I'll go ahead and put a disclaimer here.**

We passed through the Barrow-downs without incident, mostly because I didn't let them fall asleep against the standing stone. That meant that the hobbits didn't get the daggers (swords for them) that Tom would give them once they were out of the Barrow, but they didn't really use them, and once we got to Bree, there'd be no need since we'd have Aragorn. We reached the Old Road after dark on the day we left Tom's house. Frodo gave a reminder: "Please remember – all of you – that the name of Baggins must NOT be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill, if any name must be given." We all nodded, and I turned to look at the bushes on the far side of the road. I knew Aragorn was concealed there, so I tried to be discreet, but Frodo saw me look and said, "What is it, Delia?"

"Oh, nothing," I said hastily, looking back at him. "Just daydreaming."

He shrugged, and we started along the road to Bree and the Prancing Pony. It was well near midnight when we reached the gates, and so it was understandable that the gatekeeper was wary of us, but we convinced him to let us through, and soon we found ourselves at the front door of the Prancing Pony. We entered and caught the attention of Butterbur, the innkeeper, asking for a place to stay and some food brought to us. He showed us to specially made hobbit-sized rooms and left us to Nob, his hobbit servant. Nob brought us mugs of ale, and later food arrived, good simple food like in the Shire.

Later we joined the company in the main room. I immediately saw Aragorn in the corner, watching us. I nodded slightly at him, so as to not draw attention to myself, and continued to follow Frodo and the others to a table. Frodo and I sat together separated from the rest of the crowd because of our unwillingness to talk much. Frodo finally noticed Aragorn staring at him, and he asked me, without taking his eyes from Aragorn, "Who is that, Delia?"

"A friend," was all I said. "You may not trust him now, but later you will." Frodo continued to stare back at Aragorn, and then he got up and walked over to him. I, however, stayed where I was and watched Pippin as he told stories to the Bree hobbits. He had had great success with the telling of how the mayor of Michel Delving had gotten chalk all over himself and had looked like a floured dumpling, and now he was going to tell the story of Bilbo's disappearance. I had to stop him before Frodo did his foolish little dance and his own disappearing act, and so I hopped up onto my own table and started up the song that Frodo was supposed to do. It was a version of a song we know in our world, Hey Diddle Diddle. The only difference is that the one Bilbo wrote, and the one I was singing, concerned the Man in the Moon too.

I acted a little drunk for the amusement of the crowd, and when it came time for the cow to jump over the moon, I even jumped from the table to the floor with a very bad imitation of a cow's moo. Most everyone in the inn clapped and cheered, and I took a deep curtsy, swaying as I did so to keep up the illusion of drunkenness. I made my way to Pippin, where I grabbed his arm as if to steady myself, but I whispered in his ear, "Nothing, not a single word, about any of the Baggins. You almost put Frodo in trouble." Understanding dawned, and he nodded, wide-eyed.

As I went to Frodo, I saw Aragorn lean over and say something to him. Frodo later told me that he said, "You have a mighty friend in her. She has just saved you from trouble, more than you know." As it was, they were both staring at me as I stumbled up and sat down hard in the chair on the other side of Frodo. "You can thank me later," I whispered in Frodo's ear. "If you had tried to distract the others from Pippin, you would have inadvertently used the Ring, bringing attention to yourself." He looked at me with gratitude, and we continued to sit there until Frodo decided that it was time to go back to the rooms so that we could get enough sleep for tomorrow. Aragorn arranged to come see us, and Frodo and I led Sam and Pippin back to the rooms. Merry had stayed behind, saying he was going to go for a walk.

The only problem was, when we got there, he was gone. The fire had also died down, and when we turned around, Aragorn was sitting calmly in a chair by the door. Frodo, Sam, and Pippin were all alarmed; I, of course, had known he would be sitting there, but it still startled me a bit to see him just sitting there. Frodo and he had a little chat, but all of Aragorn's explanation would take a while, and I didn't like listening to something like that when I had read it a million times. So I said, "Alright, Frodo, Strider." (I called him Strider because that's what the other hobbits were calling him.) "Listen up. Frodo, Strider is a friend of Gandalf's and he has been following us since we came to the Road. He will have proof later, if my word doesn't do anything for it, but I still say that he is a friend. He can be trusted, and he will be a worthy guide for us. Listen to what he has to say."

Then I turned to Strider and said, "I am not from Middle Earth. You can ask Gandalf next you see him. I know things about this place, and about the happenings. I have been helping the hobbits, and though I am now a hobbit myself, I was not always one. You can trust me, though do not ask for the knowledge I have. I will not give it unless the occasion allows."

He nodded. "Gandalf said you would be with Frodo. I will trust you." I was surprised, but I nodded and sat with Frodo and the others in the armchairs around the fire. Sam was still distrustful of Strider, so I told him a few things that were about to happen that would change his mind. "Sam, sometime soon, Butterbur will be coming in soon with a letter for Frodo from Gandalf." There were exclamations of wonder, but I held up my hand to silence them. "Inside, he will tell us that we should have left the Shire before the end of July, and that we can trust a tall, dark, lean man that some call Strider. To make sure that we have the real Strider, he tells us that his real name is Aragorn and there will be some poetry concerning him in the letter."

"But now you have told this Strider everything he needs to know, in case he isn't the real Strider!" Sam protested.

"Sam, this _is_ the real Strider. I know it is." I turned to Strider, but just then there was a knock. It was Butterbur and Nob with hot water for baths and to have a talk. Butterbur opened his mouth to begin, but I cut him off. "Butterbur, I think that it would just be best if you gave Frodo his letter and let me explain everything."

He looked at me with a startled expression, then he became suspicious. "How do you know of the letter?"

"Long story short, I know everything. That's all you need to know. Now just hand the letter to Frodo while I explain it to him. Hurry up now; you've already done enough harm by still having it." His face fell, and he pulled the letter out of a pocket, then turned and left with Nob; I turned to Frodo. "Gandalf wrote this letter to you and gave it to Butterbur to send to you in the Shire. Only he never did, and that's why he still has it. Open and read it." Frodo did so, and then he looked at me.

"What you said only a few minutes ago is the exact same thing that is in here. So this really is Strider?"

"Yes. The one and only. If you doubt me-"

"I do not doubt you. I believed that he was a friend when you were telling us. He has frightened me several times tonight, but never in the way that servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine. I think one of his spies would – well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand."

"I see," laughed Strider. "I look foul and feel fair. Is that it? 'All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.'"

"Delia, you were right again. That was one of the lines in the poem in the letter." I just nodded. Now that it was settled that Strider was to be trusted, he started telling us of his plan to take us to Weathertop and then on to Rivendell. I was listening with half an ear, the other half straining to hear Merry come running down the hall. I counted down slowly under my breath, and timed it perfectly; as I said "zero", I heard a door slam and footsteps come running down the hall. I sat silent as Nob told that he'd found Merry on the road beside some bushes, and as Merry told what he'd heard a Black Rider and Ferny saying. Nob got busy setting up the decoys in our bedrooms, even putting a brown woolen rug on Frodo's pillow to make it look like him, and then we locked the doors and shuttered the window.

We would sleep on the floor that night. Strider sat down in an armchair lodged in front of the door, and all the hobbits lay with their feet to the fire. Even though I knew that no one would be hurt, even though I had Frodo's arms around me, I couldn't get to sleep. I carefully extricated myself from his arms so not to wake him, then went and sat close to Strider. He had been watching me since Gandalf's letter, and I knew he most likely had some questions for me.

"Can't sleep, Delia?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "I'm too nervous about what will happen tonight."

"You said you knew everything. Don't you know what will happen tonight, then?"

"Yes, I do. But that doesn't make me any less nervous. I've already changed the way that some things were supposed to go. How much can it have affected? Maybe tonight will go differently than it would if I wasn't here."

"I see." There was silence for a moment; Strider lit his pipe and began to smoke it. "Where did you come from?" he asked.

"I came from a place called Earth. There are only humans there, no elves or hobbits or dwarves or orcs or anything else that is normal here."

"How do you know all that you know?"

"There was a man where I come from who wrote books. Those books were about Middle Earth and the things that have taken place there. He claimed to have translated the stories from an ancient book called the Red Book of Westmarch, which actually won't be finished for another few years. It is written by Frodo and his uncle, Bilbo. Anyway, I have read the books that the man wrote; I've read them so many times that I have them memorized almost perfectly. That is how I know all that there is to know about Middle Earth and especially the events concerning the One Ring that Frodo carries."

Strider looked a little blown away. "Well, I suppose it is a blessing that you are on our side, and not the Enemy's."

I nodded and gave a grim little smile. "I would never join the Enemy, not if he promised me all the power and glory my heart could desire. Not even if he could promise that I would stay in Middle Earth."

Strider cocked his head curiously. "What's that?"

"I get the feeling that once I have reached the end of this story, once I have helped Frodo all I can, that I will be taken back to my world, back to a place that has nothing for me."

"Ah, I understand. You don't want to return to your old life; you're too attached to Middle Earth."

"I always have been attached to Middle Earth. It was where I felt I belonged. Not like Earth, where I was orphaned from birth and raised in an orphanage until I was eighteen."

Strider was silent for a moment as he studied me. I sat and didn't look at him; I realized after a while that I was staring at Frodo. "You love him. He's the main reason you want to stay."

I looked at Strider, then turned away as tears formed in my eyes. "Yes, I do love him," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But I am not the only one who knows what it is to be separated from one that you love." I had controlled the tears, and I turned back to see his reaction. The sadness on his face almost made regret what I'd said. "How long has it been?"

"Thirty-eight years," he replied, knowing that I was talking about the last time he had seen Arwen. "I saw her beauty last in Lothlorien, when I gave her my ring."

"Ah, yes." His face remained sad, and I placed a hand meant to comfort on his arm. "Do not always be sad; there is hope for you two."

"I do not see any."

"I will tell you only this: you two will never be kept apart permanently."

Strider looked at me; I could see the despondency in his eyes. He searched my face for untruth, but found none. He smiled a little and said, "Thank you, Delia. You have taken a great burden from my heart." I saw a little spark of hope ignite.

I smiled back at him. "I always try my best to comfort people. I hate to see people sad or upset in any way."

"You do it well. Now, sleep. Frodo looks a bit lonely over there." I chuckled quietly and went back over to where Frodo lay. I snuggled back into his arms and soon fell asleep. I always knew a good conversation was the best sleep pill.


	19. Weathertop

**AN: More actually lines from Tolkien, so disclaimer: I don't own it.**

I woke with a start, and saw that Frodo, too, was awake. Strider was sitting in the same place, listening intently to something. Frodo looked at me with a question in his eyes, and I shook my head and mouthed, _Go back to sleep_. Leading by example, I closed my eyes and laid my head back on his chest. I slowed my breathing, and pretended to be asleep, waiting for Frodo to actually fall asleep. When he did, I opened my eyes again and looked at Strider. He was still listening, but when he felt my gaze he looked at me. I mouthed _Nazgul_, and he nodded. I nodded back, and this time tried to fall asleep for real.

I was awakened again soon after I closed my eyes, or so it seemed, but now there was light streaming in through the window. Strider woke the others, and together we went to the bedrooms. They were ransacked, the fake hobbits torn open, the brown rug shredded, feathers everywhere. I could see fear on the faces of the hobbits as they viewed this scene, and I knew that there was only more to come. Strider fetched Butterbur, showed him the rooms, and said that we were to leave immediately, with no time to sit down to breakfast. "There's no need to be in a rush; our ponies have disappeared, run off by the Nazgul, along with every other horse in the stables." Bob, another hobbit servant, was sent out to check on this, and he came back, astonished and frightened.

"She's right; they're all gone. Although how she knew it without being out there I can't tell." He looked at her suspiciously, but Frodo said, "She's knows things that could change the course of the world, yes, but she can be trusted. She only told you that to save us time."

"There are more things I would say," I added. "The only pack pony we will be able to get is a horse from Bill Ferny, who will ask for twelve silver pennies for it, despite its malnutrition."

"I'll pay for the horse, and I'll compensate you, Master Brandybuck, for your ponies you lost. It won't be much, but it's all I can afford." Butterbur said this, and handed Merry eighteen silver pennies. Bob was sent with twelve pennies to Ferny to get the horse, and Merry said, "There is one crumb of comfort, and more than a crumb, I hope: we can have breakfast while we wait—and sit down to it. Let's get hold of Nob!"

Nob brought us breakfast, and we all ate. Bob was soon back with the horse, and we filled our packs with as much foodstuffs as we could. Sam valiantly said that he could carry enough for two, but we were able to put a good amount on the pony. I knew that my being there allowed us to take more food, but that I was also another mouth to feed. I made a promise to myself that I would eat less than was rationed to me to save food. As we left, I held behind to say to Butterbur, "Do not worry about your money. The ponies will return to you after a while, and you will be more than repaid for your kindness to us." He thanked me, and I hurried after the others.

We had almost reached the south gate when I saw a dark house, the house of Bill Ferny. He was watching us over his hedge, and he made some snarky remarks to Strider and Sam. In reply, Sam threw an apple at him, hitting him square in the nose. Ferny ducked out of sight with a curse. I smiled and said, "Good one, Sam."

"Waste of a good apple," he said regretfully. I laughed, and we continued on. When we had gone a good way along the road, we left it, following Strider's lead. He knew these parts well, and he took us on a way towards Archet, intending to go to Weathertop. Even though I knew what would happen at Weathertop, I didn't try to dissuade him from that route. I was determined not to change the book any more than couldn't be avoided.

On the second day of October, we arrived in the Midgewater Marshes. The hobbits, mainly Sam and Pippin, complained of the midges, which would crawl into our clothes and give us no rest from their bites. "What do they live on when they can't get hobbit?" Sam asked once. Night brought no respite; the midges still bugged us, and then there were Neekerbreekers, as Sam called them, which seemed to be evil relatives of crickets, for they never stopped going _neek-breek_, _breek-neek_. The next day and night were little better, for even though the Neekerbreekers were gone, there were still the midges. That night, there were lights on Weathertop, which I knew to be Gandalf. Frodo lay awake beside me, staring at the lights, and Strider stood and watched them. Frodo asked, "What are the lights?"

"I do not know," Strider replied, but then he turned and looked at me. "But maybe Delia does."

"It is Gandalf. He has reached Weathertop before us. But we should not go any quicker to reach him," I added. "He will have to leave before we could get there."

"What is he doing?" Frodo asked.

"He is fighting the Riders," I said reluctantly. Strider and Frodo both look at me, then at each other. I turned away from them, waiting to hear what they would say. "We must be especially careful then as we approach Weathertop," Strider says.

"Can we just go around Weathertop?" Frodo asked.

"No," I said quickly. "You must go to Weathertop, but do not climb it. There will be a little dell, and we must all stay there the entire time."

They were both silent, and I could feel both sets of eyes boring into my back. Then Strider said, "I trust you Delia, so we will do as you say." That was all. Frodo wrapped his arms around me, and soon we were both asleep.

We made it to Weathertop in three days, and there was the little dell. We made our camp there, and Strider had us start a fire. Fire would keep the Nazgul at bay for a little while, at least. I had a sudden idea, and I set to work doing it. I took ten stones and coated them with oil, which would burn when lit by the fire. When the Nazgul came, I would light some and try to drive them away by lighting their cloaks on fire. I could only hope that it would be enough to keep Frodo from being stabbed.

Night came slowly, and the hobbits asked Strider to tell them more about the elves. And so he sang a part of the Lay of Luthien, and told the rest of story in normal speech, and then the moon came up, and a black shape was seen in the top of the hill. Sam and Merry went off to get more water, then came running back, saying that there were black shapes coming towards the camp. Strider ordered us all to make a circle with our backs to the fire and to take up some of the longer sticks on fire. I kept the stones close.

The first figures came over the lip of the dell, and I lit a stone on fire, put it in my sling, and started spinning it. I released it, and it hit the Ringwraith on the far right of the dell. A shrill scream was heard, and the cloak caught on fire; it turned and fled into the night. Sam called, "Delia!" and I turned to see Frodo standing as if entranced, the Ring in his right hand. I hurried to him, and grabbed his hand, closing it around the Ring, keeping him from putting it on. He looked at me, and he was not himself. There was a wild fire in his eyes, but then he seemed to recognize me, and the fire left, replaced with a sadness that pierced my heart.

There was another scream, and Frodo's eyes were suddenly focusing on something behind me. I turned, and there was a dark shape looming over us. I knew it was the king of the Nazgul, for in his right hand he held a knife. His arm pulled back as he went to stab Frodo, and I moved to get in front of the blade. Unfortunately, I was too late, and it only sliced my arm on its way to Frodo's shoulder. It embedded deeply, and I heard his scream of pain. Keeping my left hand over his right, I turned and grabbed a stick from the fire with my right. I swung it back around quickly, yelling "O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!" as I felt it hit the cloak of the pale king. There was another scream, and the shadow that was now in flames fled the dell. I saw the others follow as Strider went at them with his own flaming brands, and then there was a tug at my left hand as Frodo fell.

I turned to him and had Sam help me settle him on his back by the fire. I wrapped him in blankets; then Sam called out that Strider was not there any more. "He has gone to make sure that the Nazgul are all gone, Sam. Do not worry, he will return."

Frodo woke a little before Strider returned, and he asked where the Nazgul had gone. I told him they left after we set some of them on fire, and he smiled weakly. Then Strider arrived, and I told him all that had happened. He frowned when he saw Frodo's wound and he ordered Merry and Pippin to get as much water warmed as they could, and to use it to bathe the stab. Then he said to me, "I'm going to do my best to help and heal him. I need to go find a plant that may be able to help. Guard him well while I am away." He patted my arm, and a sharp pain bolted up my arm, making me gasp. We both looked at my arm, and I saw blood soaking my sleeve. I said, "Oh, I forgot that the knife got me too. I'll just bind it up."

Strider looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "You might need more than a bandage for that cut. Bathe it like they are bathing Frodo's, and bind it up. But I want a look at it when I return." I nodded, and away he went.

Strider arrived with the dawn, and with him came athelas, a plant with great healing powers. He threw it into boiling water, and washed Frodo's shoulder with it. The steam soothed my mind, as well as the others'; I could tell it from the refreshed looks on their faces. Once Frodo was taken care of, Strider turned to me and undid the bandage on my upper right arm. In the dark, I had been unable to see the cut, but now that sunlight was streaming into the dell, I saw that it was gray and puckered. Strider took a cloth, wet it with the athelas water, and cleaned the cut again. An unexpected warmth flooded my arm; I hadn't even realized it was cold. He wrapped a clean cloth around it and said, "Yours is not as serious as Frodo's, but we still need to keep it clean."

We ate a hurried meal after that, and repacked our things. We divided up most of what had been on the pony so that Frodo could ride, since he couldn't walk. I shouldered my pack with a grunt; my right arm was a little numb. I hoped that was an effect of the athelas as I set off. I didn't want to lose the use of my right arm, since it was the arm that I used my sling with. We started off, going back to woods, since fire would protect us, and Frodo should stay warm. We would have to cross the Old Road, but that couldn't be helped.


	20. The Ford of Bruinen

**AN: More Tolkien, so of course, I don't own it.**

Five days passed, and we came to the river Hoarwell, or as the elves call it, Mitheithel. Frodo had gotten slowly worse, his wound paining him again, and I had washed it as often as we had stopped and built a fire. My own cut had not gotten better, but at least it had not gotten worse. The only bad thing was that it made my entire arm stiff and sore after a day, and it became hard for me to use it to its full capacity. I couldn't wait to get to Rivendell.

Strider went ahead at the bridge over the Hoarwell, and came back with a pale green stone. "It is a beryl, an elf-stone," he said. "Whether it was set there, or let fall by chance, I cannot say; but it brings hope to me."

"The elf Glorfindel left it there," I told him. "He was sent to watch the Road after they received news that Frodo was coming, and he drove three Nazgul from the bridge. We will meet him upon our way."

"That is good news indeed. But let's continue on now." And so we did, crossing the bridge quickly and then leaving the Road once more and entering the forests. We had traveled for two days when the rain started. The cold and wet made Frodo's wound hurt more, I knew, for my own arm was becoming more stiff. The second night of rain we found shelter in a little cave in a rock-side. Frodo was unable to sleep from the ache and the creeping cold that was taking his entire left side. I wanted to comfort him, so I sat by him, put his head in my lap, and started to sing a little song I'd written back in Ireland, when I was sixteen. I wrote and sang it in Elvish, because I'd wanted to learn it and writing a song was a fun way to learn, but I'll write it down here in English.

_As I travel, far from home,_

_Stranger things I'll never see,_

_And in the dark place that I roam,_

_I'll see many creatures frightening._

_Dark all my dreams will be,_

_Nightmares 'neath a starless dome;_

_Shadows fall, fears fill me,_

_The horizon shows no sign of bright'ning._

_I walk alone from hill to field_

_And lonesome seek a busy inn_

_There to have my heart be healed._

_But never did I find a friend._

_Not one battle did I win,_

_To evil did I always yield_

_And to all my pain gave in,_

_'Til I had nothing at the end._

_Long I thought alone I'd stay_

_For none could understand my pain,_

_But as I wandered on my way,_

_Another voice joined my mourning song._

_It fell upon my ears like rain_

_And through my darkness sent a ray_

_Of bright light that would never wane_

_Though my trial be weary and long._

_A friend I gained from that day on,_

_A friend who kept me near,_

_And even though they're sometimes gone_

_They're always there when needed most._

_No other's voice I'd rather hear_

_Whilst in strange places I have gone._

_They take away my every fear_

_And banish every nightmare's ghost._

When I had finished singing, I looked up from where I'd been staring at the ground. They were all staring at me, even Strider. "I didn't know you knew Elvish that well, Delia," Frodo said.

"I learned when I was young," I replied with a slight shrug. "I wrote that song myself, when I was feeling a little sad." The truth was that I'd written it after reading the books again and feeling sad for Frodo. I'd imagined that I was in the books with him, and he was the one wandering, and I was the voice that joined his song.

"It was beautiful, and well-written." This time Strider was talking. "You wrote it in the elvish mode of ann-thennath."

"Yes. It took me a while to get it right, but I really wanted to write that song in the language of the Elves, so I did."

"And you did it well. You may have to sing it for the elves in Rivendell."

My eyes widened. "Oh dear. I don't think I'd have the courage to sing a song in their own language in their own hall, especially a song that I wrote. What if I offend them with my poor attempt?"

"You had enough courage to sing it in front of us," Pippin said then. "Why would it be any different in front of them? I couldn't tell what you were saying, but it was so beautiful and sad, and it would not be out of place in the halls of the elves, I think."

I smiled. "Thanks Pip. Maybe I will sing it there. What do you think, Frodo?" I turned back to him, but he was asleep. I sighed in relief. It was good for him to sleep. I leaned against the wall of the cave and watched him. I knew he was dreaming of his garden in the Shire, but that it was dim compared to the tall dark figures that were standing behind his hedge. I could see the fear and sadness on his face.

The next day Strider took stock of our surroundings and gave us the verdict that we had come too far north, and now we would have to start going south-east again to reach the Ford of Bruinen. The end of the day found us cold and worn out from a long climb out of a valley. Frodo lay on the ground shivering, and I knew he was getting worse still. I had hope that the others didn't, though, because I knew we would make it to Rivendell and Frodo would be healed. At least mostly healed. I wrapped both his blanket and my own around him and led him to the little hollow beneath a tree where the others had lit a fire. The night was cold, and Frodo only half-slept, even though I softly sang my song again for him. He lay dazed against my shoulder, his eyes distant and wide.

Strider brought good news the next day: we were close to the Road, which we would have to take to get to the River Bruinen. We weren't far from Rivendell. We all helped Frodo back onto the pony and then headed down the other side of the cliff we had climbed the day before. It was much easier going this time, and soon the sun was out and everything was warming up. Frodo sat a little straighter, but at times he still passed his good hand over his eyes. I spent the climb exercising my right arm, trying to make the stiffness and slight chill go away.

We reached the place where Bilbo had seen the three trolls around noon that day, and we stopped to have a little rest beneath the shade of one troll's legs. The hobbits asked for a poem or a song, and Sam obliged. He did a little piece of poetry he had written about a troll and a man named Tom. I smiled as I listened, saying it silently along with him. Then we left the trolls and continued to the Road. Night was falling and we were looking for a place to make camp when we heard the sound of hooves behind us. My heart lightened, for I knew it was Glorfindel, and so I said, "Strider, we don't need to fear the rider that comes our way. 'Tis only Glorfindel."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"As sure as everything else I've ever said concerning events here."

"Then we will keep going for a while and be waiting for him when he arrives." We did as he said, and when we heard the bells on the horse's tack, we stopped and turned, looking back the way we came. Soon, Glorfindel appeared, and he appeared to be shining with a soft white light. I knew Frodo saw the light as well. He brought his horse to stop in front of us and dismounted. "Surely you would not normally wait in the open when an unidentified rider approaches, Dunadan?" the Elf-lord said to Strider.

"No, I would normally hide us all," he replied. "But this time I was reassured that it was you by the young lady hobbit we have with us." He motioned to me, and I stepped forward with a smile.

"Mae govannen, Glorfindel. I am Delia Brethilwen, and I know many things about this world. I knew that it was you upon the Road following our trail, and not a Black Rider."

"Well met, Delia. But how do you know all that you know?"

"Maybe once we are safe in the halls of Imladris I will tell about myself. But now Frodo is gravely injured and in need of healing, and the Black Riders are near." This made Glorfindel turn to Frodo, who was swaying slightly and clutching Sam's arm, the owner of which was looking very angry and worried. The Elf caught Frodo up in his arms and looked at his wound, his face turning grave as what he discovered disquieted him. But I could the relief show on Frodo's face as some of the pain and coldness left, and a mist seemed to leave his eyes and he looked at us with eyes that were more focused. Glorfindel then put him on his horse and shortened the stirrups, telling Frodo to sit tight. "If danger presses too near, he will bear you away with a speed that even the black steed of the enemy cannot rival."

"No, he won't!" Frodo protested. "I won't ride him if I'm to be carried off to Rivendell or anywhere else while my friends are left in danger." His eyes found mine as he said this. I shook my head slightly, while Glorfindel said with a smile, "I doubt very much if your friends would be in danger if you were not with them. It is you, Frodo, and that which you bear that brings us all peril."

Frodo had no answer, and so he stayed on the horse. That meant that we could take a lot out of our packs and put it back on the pony, and so we started off again, no time for rest, with lighter steps. We didn't stop until dawn, and then the other three hobbits and I threw ourselves upon the ground and slept. But it seemed that barely a moment later Glorfindel was waking us again and having us drink something. It was flavorless, colorless, and neither warm nor cold, but as we drank it, strength and vigor returned to our limbs and we continued on soon after.

From that gray dawn to the end of the day, we went twenty miles and were nearer to the river. Frodo was failing fast; I could see a haze starting to cover his eyes that was worse as night fell. I could not sleep for fear that maybe my presence would do something to change the outcome of this part. Maybe my being here would hinder his ride to the Ford later. Maybe he would give in to darkness all the sooner. The next day we broke through the woods and saw a flat mile of Road before us, and after it the Ford of Bruinen. Glorfindel stopped and listened, and I heard it too: a sound of rushing wind, and hooves behind us. Then he turned back to us and yelled, "Fly! Fly! The enemy is upon us!"

His horse darted forward and the rest of broke into a run. I looked back and saw a Black Rider emerge from where we had just been, and I turned to see Frodo stopped and staring. Before Glorfindel had a chance, I called "Noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth!" Frodo heard my voice, and our eyes met in the split second before Asfaloth broke into a fast gallop. Then there was a rushing of air as five Riders galloped past in pursuit. The Sam looked ready to run off after them all, as was I, but Glorfindel stopped him and told us all to get branches and light them on fire. I knew what he was thinking: "All the Riders will be at the Ford, and we must drive them into the water. There is enchantment on the waters there that will create a flood to wash enemies away." They all nodded and gathered good big branches. I stuck to my sling and stones; the Riders' steeds would feel the sting of my wrath personally.

We hurried down the slope and along the last mile of Road. Sure enough, three Riders were standing in the water already, and as we approached I could hear the sound of rushing water. It swept the three Riders away, and then we appeared, with flaming brands and I slinging stones at the flanks of the horses. All nine Riders thus found themselves amid frothing water, but my attention was now on Frodo, who was slowly slipping from Asfaloth's saddle. I winced as he hit the ground, but all I could do was wait as the water calmed back down. It was a sad sight, Frodo just lying there, and another song started to form in my mind.


	21. The Beginning of the Changes

**AN: Tolkien owns LotR.**

I watched as Elrond healed Frodo as best he could before getting the shard of the knife out, and sat through the healing he did on my small cut. I took turns watching over Frodo later with Sam and Bilbo, for Bilbo had come to Rivendell after his own travels. I briefly introduced myself to Bilbo, but I could tell he was more comfortable with Sam, so I left them. Gandalf was in Rivendell when we arrived, and when I wasn't watching Frodo, I talked with Gandalf about things that had happened. I told him about how I had kept us from becoming victims of the Barrow-wight, and how I made a fool of myself in Bree, saving Frodo from using the Ring. I told Gandalf that I knew about his captivity in Orthanc, and how he had escaped.

When I was with Frodo, I sat beside him on his bed, and sometimes, when nightmares or memories bothered his sleep, I would sing the new song softly and gently stroke his hair off his forehead. Once, as I was doing this, I suddenly felt that someone was watching me, and I turned to the balcony. A female elf was standing there, crouching atop the railing. Her hair was blond, a sort of midway between the golden hair of Galadriel, and the white blond hair of Legolas. When I looked at her, she smiled, and said, "Mae govannen. I am Ningloriel i Hithchen, hand-maiden of Galadriel of Lothlorien."

"Mae govannen, Ningloriel. I am Delia Brethilwen of the Shire."

"You have a strange name for a hobbit; it is Elvish."

"I know, Mistchild."

Her eyebrows rose at the sound of her second name in Westron. "You speak Elvish?"

"I learned it from a young age. I can also read and write it. The song I was singing is Elvish, if you didn't notice."

"Was it really? Would you sing it for me?"

"Maybe if we weren't where we are now. Frodo needs his sleep, and I don't want to disturb him by singing louder."

"How about we talk later by the waterfall?"

"Alright. When Sam comes to take my place, I'll come." She flashed another smile and then jumped from the railing to a tree and out of sight. Frodo stirred in his sleep, and he said, "Don't worry Delia, I'm fine." He talked much while he slept, and this was just one comment out of many that I'd heard while watching him. A half hour passed, and then I heard Sam's footsteps coming up the stairs, and he soon appeared in the doorway. "I'll watch him now, Delia, if you want to get something to eat."

I smiled. Good old Sam. "Thank you Sam. I was getting a bit hungry." I rose from my place on the bed and passed him as I went through the door. I went to the kitchens, where I filled a small basket with food for two, in case Ningloriel wanted something, and then I headed to the waterfall.

It was really beautiful, the waterfall in Rivendell. If you stood just right, you could a rainbow arcing off the water over the valley. I sat on a rock that had the perfect view of the valley, and I opened the basket, taking out some cheese and bread and nibbling thoughtfully on it while I waited for the Elf. I did not have to wait long, for soon I heard the lightest of thumps behind me, as if an Elf had dropped from a tree and purposely made a little noise to say "Here I am." I turned, and there she stood. I motioned her over to sit by me on the big flat stone, and she did with another smile. I offered her food, but she politely shook her head, saying, "I have already eaten my noon meal, and I won't need another till evening."

"Of course," I replied.

"I know that you aren't from Middle Earth."

I choked a little on the bread as she said that, and then I turned to her, eyes wide and brows raised. "How do you know that?"

"The Lady Galadriel sees many things, Delia."

"Oh, I should have guessed. How long have you been her hand-maiden?"

"Since the beginning of the Second Age."

"Then she would, of course, trust you with information like that. Presumably she sent you to tell Elrond?"

"Yes."

"I would have told him myself, but at least he's more prepared now. So, did she know exactly where I've come from, or anything else interesting about me?"

"No, she only knew you were a hobbit and you'd be coming with the Ring-bearer. She didn't say you'd know Elvish and have an Elvish name."

"Where I come from, a place called Ireland on a world called Earth, there was once a man who wrote a series of books. These books were concerned with another world called Middle Earth, where hobbits and Elves and dwarves lived alongside Men. They told a very specific part of the history of Middle Earth, which I may tell you more about later. All that needs be known right now is that I loved those books. I read them every week until I almost had them memorized completely. Then, seventeen years ago now, I was reading them once more, and I fell asleep while reading. When I woke up, I was in the Shire, transformed into a hobbit by whatever or whoever had brought me here. I do not know why I am here, I do not know what or who did bring me here. What I believe is that I have been brought here to help Frodo with whatever he will need help with, and then I will be taken back to my own world."

"And what will he need help with?"

"You will find out at the Council that Elrond is holding in a few days time."

"You are as bad as wizard with your riddles."

"Some might say bad as an Elf." I smiled a little to let her know I was joking.

"Really?" She smiled in return. "Well, let me ask you this. Has Middle Earth changed any from what the books said?"

My smile faded. "Yes, it has. I believe it is just because I am here, that my presence in Middle Earth alone is changing things. For example, you were never spoken of. In the books, Galadriel never sends anyone to Imladris for the Council. I'm assuming, though, that you are here for the Council?"

"I think everyone who is here or will be here soon will be present for the Council."

"It would be best. But there are also some things that I changed, some things that kept Frodo out of more danger, like the Barrow-wights on the downs close to the Road near Bree."

"Would there have been danger there?"

"Yes, there would have, and also a delay that we were able to avoid. But there were some things that I could not change, such as Frodo getting wounded on Weathertop. Even though I kept him from wearing the Ring and I tried to block him from the Nazgul, he still was stabbed, and came near to fading. It seems that fate would have me leave some things be."

"It seems so indeed. It must be a great burden to know all that you do."

"It is indeed a great burden. I am always wondering whether or not I should change something or let it be, or whether some small thing I have done will have greater repercussions."

"I hope that you will find wisdom here to guide you."

"I hope so too." We were both silent for a moment, enjoying the afternoon. Then she said, "Will you sing that song for me, that you were singing for Frodo?"

"The one I was singing for Frodo is not finished yet. But if you really want me to sing something for you, then I could sing another I have written."

"Please sing it. It would be fitting."

"I would say otherwise, for it is a sad song for a time, but I will sing it, for you." And so I sang the song I'd sung to help Frodo sleep, trying not to look at Ningloriel so that I wouldn't falter at any expression she showed. When I was done, I let my hair fall in front of my face, waiting to see what she'd say.

"You were right: it is a sad song at the beginning. But it is beautiful, and well-written. When exactly did you learn to speak Elvish?"

"I started to learn it when I was eleven. That was shortly after I'd read the books for the first time, and I fell in love with them. The author of the books had done extensive research on the languages of Middle Earth, as have other linguists over the years, and so there is plenty to learn from. I wrote the song as practice when I was sixteen, at a time that I was a little sad."

"Will you sing for others?"

"Perhaps. I do not think I would dare to sing in front of the entire household of Elrond in their own tongue. I fear I might offend them."

"Well, you didn't offend me, and I'm an Elf, one from Lorien at that. Besides, Bilbo sings songs in the hall himself often, even over subjects that they know better than he. If he is allowed to be that cheeky, then you should be able to sing your own song."

I smiled. "Thank you, Mistchild. Is it all right if I call you that, instead of Ningloriel?"

"Yes, for you, I'll let you call me that."

"I needn't ask you why you are called the Mistchild. Your talent at unseen and unheard movement is amazing."

"Thank you, Delia. I need to go now, though. Another elf has requested that I train with him as often as we can, and our next meeting is soon. Good-bye."

"Good-bye." I watched her climb a tree and then she disappeared into the branches. I finished my lunch and went back to the kitchens to give back the basket. I spoke a little with the Elves there, in their own language, about their cooking methods and what spices they used. They laughed to hear me speaking in their language, and generously showed me through their kitchens. The smells alone that wafted on the breeze coming through the open windows was enough to make me hungry. Then I saw all the food, and the way they prepared it. It is too much to describe in detail here, and I would probably bore you with the details, so let's just say that the Elven kitchens of Rivendell was what I imagine kitchens in heaven, or Valinor, to be like.

After many hours there, I left and went back to Frodo's room. Elrond was standing by his bed, his forehead creased in concentration. I suddenly remembered what day it was: the 23rd of October, the night Elrond would finally remove the shard of the knife from Frodo's shoulder. I stayed in a corner of the room, watching, until with a sigh of relief, Elrond brought his hand up off Frodo's shoulder. In his palm was a small splinter of metal, stained red. I was shocked to see blood, and I looked at Frodo's shoulder, but there was no sign of a new opening; all there was was a faint white scar. Elrond turned around and said to the room, "There is the fatal shard. Frodo should fully mend now. I will have it melted." I realized that Gandalf, Sam, and Bilbo were standing in the room as well, and had watched the whole thing with me.

As Elrond left, Sam and I simultaneously went to each side of his bed. His left hand was starting to warm again, and Sam held it as I stroked the hair from Frodo's face. I felt a gaze on the back of my neck, and turned to see Bilbo staring at me. I realized that he must want a chance to look at Frodo, and so I stood and motioned him to his side. He shook his head and said quietly, "I'm fine here. I was only wondering who exactly you are, being so familiar with Frodo to touch him so gently and lovingly." I looked at Gandalf, and he nodded at me with a slight smile, and I took Bilbo by the arm and led him to a bench overlooking the valley. "Bilbo, I came to Bag End about four years after your Big Party, the one where you disappeared. I was employed as a cook and housekeeper for Frodo, although really I think I was just there to have a place to stay. In the years that followed, I found myself falling in love with Frodo. And he was falling in love with me." I found myself blushing and thinking, _What an awkward conversation_. "But I can't marry him because when all this with the Ring is over, I'll most likely be taken back to where I'm from."

"Where are you from, exactly?"

"A place far away, on another world called Earth, where there are books about Middle Earth, books that I have read."

"Really? How interesting."

"Yes. For example, your book that you are writing, _There and Back Again_, is actually a book called The Hobbit where I come from. I'm a big fan of your adventures."

"That's extraordinary, Delia. But does that mean that Frodo's story is also told?"

"Yes, it does. But do not ask me how it ends," I said quickly, for I could tell he was about to ask just that. "I will not tell you, not for anything, for already many things have changed just by me being in Middle Earth. I do not want to risk his ending changing because I told someone what it was."

"I understand. You really do love him, don't you?"

"Yes. And if there was anything I could do to change his fate, I would, but there isn't, so I must go with him to help him."

"So you will be at the Council?"

"Of course. I think even if Frodo would not be, I still would be. Elrond knows about my knowledge and where I'm from."

"Of course he does, of course. Well, I suppose I'll go see Frodo one last time before going to my own room."

"Alright, Bilbo. I'll see you later." Bilbo rose and went back to Frodo's room. I, meanwhile, went and leaned against the railings and watched as the sun set.


	22. Healing and a Feast

**AN: Tolkien owns all Middle Earth-y things I refer to.**

The day after Elrond took the shard from Frodo's shoulder, the 24th of October, was a day busy with preparations. Since Elrond had announced that Frodo would be well enough for a feast that day, the kitchens promptly began the cooking. I had thought to sleep in a bit, but when the sun rose, the light was so tempting that got up and went for a walk. There were birds and animals all through the nearby woods, and I spent time in a tree just listening to them chatter away with each other. I had brought a handful of seeds, and I held these in my palms, dead still, for the birds to eat. It took a few minutes for them to get used to me, but soon I had about five birds perched on my fingers and hands as they pecked the seeds.

It was nine thirty when I finally went to Frodo's room. Gandalf was there already, and Sam was leaving. I knew he had stayed up all night with Frodo, and he looked very tired. I patted his shoulder as I passed, and then went in to sit by Gandalf. He was tamping Old Toby into his long pipe, and then a snap of his fingers lit it. As I sat down, he looked at me with a smile. "Hello, Delia. How was your walk?"

I looked down at myself to see how he had known I had gone for a walk. When I saw the dirt and grass stains on my trousers, I looked back up and smiled. "It was pleasant. The birds were very friendly."

"Yes, I suppose they would be if one had seed with them." There was companionable silence between us for a while, then I said, "Gandalf, I think things are changing already, more than ever. More than normal, since I've been here."

He looked at me. "How so?"

"Well, the Elf Ningloriel. She was never in the books, but I hear she's going to be at the Council."

"Yes, Galadriel sent her to Elrond about you."

"I know; she told me."

"Perhaps she will be the only great change."

"Perhaps." More silence. I felt the minutes ticking by to ten o'clock in the morning, when I knew Frodo would wake up. Gandalf puffed away on his pipe, blowing smoke rings out of the large windows that let gleaming sunlight in to fall on the bed. Back home, I had never enjoyed the smell of cigarette smoke, and especially none of the other smoked drugs that could sometimes be smelled on campus. But pipe smoke was different; it had a different smell, not as bitter somehow. And it depended on the type of pipeweed the smoker happened to have in his pipe at the time. Merry and Pippin preferred Longbottom leaf in their pipes, while Gandalf preferred Old Toby. Longbottom had a tangier smell, while Old Toby was slightly sweet. I breathed it in now, with a slight smile.

As I watched Frodo, I saw his eyes open, but he remained lying down. I wanted so bad to get up and go to him, but I sat still and silent. Then he said to the ceiling, "Where am I, and what is the time?"

With a smile I silently mouth the words as Gandalf said them. "In the house of Elrond, and it is ten o'clock in the morning. It is the morning of October the twenty-fourth, if you want to know."

"Gandalf!" he cried as he sat up. "Delia!" He noticed me. I smiled as his own face lit up with a smile.

"We're both here, and you're lucky to be here too." Gandalf went on to explain the lapse of days that Frodo couldn't remember, and that he was delayed. When Frodo looked at me to explain where Gandalf had been, when the wizard himself would not, I just shook my head. "You really will learn everything at the Council, Frodo." They talked some more, and then Frodo asked, "What were the Ringwraiths trying to do when they stabbed me?"

"They tried to pierce your heart with a Morgul-knife which remains in the wound. If they had succeeded, you would have become like them."

Frodo shuddered. "It is a marvel that I escaped!"

"Yes, fortune or fate have helped you, not to mention courage, both your own and Delia's. She kept you from putting on the Ring and blocked the Nazgul from stabbing your heart, making them only able to get your shoulder. You owe her much, for her knowledge has helped you much on the journey here. Also, Aragorn's help saved you when I could not be there."

"Yes, he and Delia did help much." His eyes met mine. There were so many emotions in his eyes: gratitude, happiness tinged with sadness, confusion about the past few days, ghosts of the pain, and memories. One emotion I didn't see there, though, was love. I frowned, wondering where it had gone. But I erased it from my face before Gandalf could notice, and listened as he and Frodo talked more. When Frodo asked to hear the rest of what had happened at the Ford, Gandalf moved his chair to the bedside, and I sat on the bed, at the foot of it. From there I watched Frodo as hew as told what happened. Then he was told there was going to be a feast, and to go back to sleep. His last words before he fell asleep were, "I wonder where Bilbo is. I wish he was here and could hear all about it. It would have made him laugh." His eyelids fluttered shut, and he turned his head to the side.

I stood to leave; Gandalf watched me go. I went back out to the woods; there would still be many hours before the feast was ready and before I had to change clothes. I took more seed, and some bread, cheese, and fruit, and I sat on the ground, feeding and talking to whatever little forest animals came to me. I wondered again about the lack of love in Frodo's eyes. There was just something wrong with it. Maybe it was just the illness lingering.

When I returned to my room, I found that a light green dress awaited me on the bed. Ningloriel was there too, already dressed in a gown of dark blue. "The Elven seamstresses made this up for you for tonight." As I held it in my hands, I smiled at her. "Tell them they have my thanks." She nodded and left. I washed up quickly and slid the dress over my head. It was light and airy, perfect for the weather. It was also soft and smooth, almost like silk, but not near as heavy. It fell all the way to the ground, covering my feet but not getting in the way; the sleeves went to my elbows, then widened on the back to the wrist. I brushed my curls, mussed up from climbing trees and tangling in bushes, and used my sling as a headband. The green heart pendant from Frodo already hung from my neck; I had taken to wearing it all the time once we'd left the Shire.

Properly attired for the feast, I now went to find Pippin, Merry, and Gandalf. Once again I passed Sam; this time, he was on his way to get Frodo and bring him to the feast. I found the others on a porch facing east. Gandalf sat in the shadows, smoking his pipe again. Merry and Pippin were smoking as well, but not the Longbottom they loved; it was just a common pipeweed they had gotten from Brandy Hall before we'd left. They greeted me happily, Merry rising to give me his seat on the bench beside Pippin. I smiled in thanks, and we chatted about little things, like the color of the trees and the quality of pipeweed. Then Sam appeared around the corner, Frodo in tow, and Pippin sprang up to greet Frodo. I watched the scene, a smile on my face, and rose when the bells rang for dinner.

I found myself sitting at the table on the dais, the one at which also sat Elrond, Gandalf, Glorfindel, and the Lady Arwen. Ningloriel sat on one side of Arwen, and I on the other, and on my other side sat an Elf who could only be Legolas. As I ate, I looked around for the others. Frodo sat beside the dwarf Gloin, and the other hobbits sat together. Aragorn was not there; he was talking to Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond's sons, who had just come in with news he wanted to hear. Beside Gloin sat Gimli, his son, and other dwarves I couldn't identify. As I turned my attention back to the table I was sitting at, I noticed that Arwen had been watching me. I turned to her and bowed as best I could while sitting and said, "Hello, Lady Arwen. I am Delia Brethilwen."

She smiled at me. "I know. My father told me about you."

"I see," I said as I smiled back. "Then you will not mind my asking, how was your stay in Lothlorien with your grandmother?"

She laughed lightly. "It is always beautiful there, no matter the season, and it was no different. Galadriel spoke with me about many things while I was there. I go there to remember my mother." Her voice was slightly sad as she said this.

I nodded, knowing that her mother had left Middle Earth after being shot with a poisoned orc arrow. "It must have been wonderful to know her for as long as you did. I never knew my mother."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. This is a merry occasion, and I shouldn't be dwelling on things that are past." I smiled, and she and I talked of other things. When she turned away to talk to Ningloriel, I turned back to my food, helping myself to more excellent fare. Then I looked at Legolas, and saw that he was observing the other guests as I had been. He turned to me then, as if he sensed me watching him, and smiled. "Mae govannen. I am Legolas of Mirkwood."

"Mae govannen. My name is Delia Brethilwen of the Shire."

"So you came here with Frodo Baggins?"

"Yes, I did. You came for the Council."

"Yes. My father, King Thranduil, sent me."

"I know." He looked confused, so I said, "There are many things about Middle Earth that I know. I won't go into detail here because I will most likely have to explain yet again at the Council tomorrow."

"I see. How do you like Rivendell?"

"It is more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. When I was young, I heard stories about its beauty and the beauty of the Elves who live here, and I'd dreamed of someday visiting. Now here I am, and everything is better than anything I dreamed."

"What do you think of the Elves?"

"They are all so graceful, and beautiful. Some are like royalty, and some, like Ningloriel from Lothlorien, are merry and friendly."

"Ah, so you have met Ningloriel?"

"Yes," I said with a smile. "She and I have created a friendship. How did you meet her?"

"Actually, I was practicing with my twin knives in the evening, and she comes from the shadows with her own sword and begins to spar with me. She bested me, and that was the beginning of our friendship. We practice often now, or rather, I try to defeat her while she effortlessly manages to keep that from happening." There was a wry smile on his face, but I heard something else in his voice, something that spoke more than friendship.

I decided to ignore it, for now. "I see. Do you know what the Council will be about?"

He seemed to grab eagerly at the change of subject. "I have some idea, but I am not entirely sure. Do you know?"

"Yes, it is another of the things that I know."

"So you will be at the Council?"

"I am sure Lord Elrond will ask me to be there." He nodded, and I said, "So tell me of Mirkwood. I have never been there, though I would like to someday." He smiled and proceeded to tell me about all the things that made it his home: the cave palace, the trees, the animals, the Elves.

When the feast was finished, I found myself swept along in the crowd to the Hall of Fire. I took a seat beside Frodo, but when he rose to talk to Bilbo, who sat in the corner, I remained where I was. I listened to the music made by the many instruments played by the Elves, and listened as they began to sing. Then Bilbo and Aragorn went into a corner to finish Bilbo's song, and Frodo returned to sit by me. Sam had fallen asleep, and Frodo didn't seem to want to talk, so instead we just sat and listened together. I saw Frodo's eyes close, and then Bilbo got up and began to sing the song that he had written. It was a song about Earendil and his journey, and it was very, very long. At the end, Frodo opened his eyes, and saw Bilbo. After a few words were exchanged between Bilbo and the Elves listening to his song concerning which part was his and which was Aragorn's, he got up and went to Frodo, and they went off together to have some quiet talk. Before he went through the door, Frodo took one last look at me, our eyes meeting, then he left.

I stayed, watching over Sam and listening to the music. There were so many songs, most of them concerning Elbereth and the Blessed Realm, that I lost count of how many were actually sung. I did fall asleep once or twice, and dreamed of the faraway places in the songs. Aragorn woke me once, asking if I would care to sing the song I had written. I hesitated, and he said that I didn't have to if I didn't want to; the Elves were not demanding hosts. I politely declined, and he smiled at me, going back to tell Elrond and to stand by Arwen. Ningloriel was sitting beside Legolas, and something amusing was happening. Legolas was staring at her as she sang along with the others, and she was deliberately ignoring his gaze. She felt my own gaze and looked at me with a smile. She rolled her eyes with a slight nod of her head to Legolas, as if to say _Men_. I grinned back widely, and that's when Legolas noticed me; I quickly hid my smile from him by bowing my head.

Glancing out of the open doorway once, I saw that the moon had risen far into the sky, and I woke Sam, telling him that he should fetch Frodo since there would be a Council tomorrow and he would need sleep. Sam readily agreed, and got up with a stretch. I followed him out of the hall, but I didn't go to Bilbo's room with him. Instead, I went to a balcony that overlooked the southern entrance to the valley, and I looked at the stars as I awaited the arrival of the last member of the Fellowship.


	23. Rivendell

Eothela and Boromir brought their horses to a trot as they rode beneath the trees of Rivendell. They could see an arch ahead that marked the entrance, and the rising sun's beams threw light through it. They rode under the arch and dismounted. Ella looked around her in awe; Rivendell was far more beautiful than she could ever have imagined. The trees leaves were still green, and she could smell flowers on the air. It was as if summer still lingered on in the valley of Imladris. The buildings seemed to have their foundations in the very sides of the valley, rising up out of the vegetation. There were so many balconies and windows and open doorways, to let all the beauty get in.

And on one balcony, Ella saw a small person, possibly a child, staring at her and Boromir. The person was a girl, and she had a thoughtful look on her face as she watched Ella and Boromir. When she noticed Ella staring at her, she waved, and then turned and disappeared from sight behind the railings. Ella was curious to see who the girl was, but she remembered that she was here on important business; the mysterious girl would have to wait. Now, though, there was an Elf coming towards them.

"Hello, travelers," he said. "What brings you to Rivendell?"

"I have need of counsel from Lord Elrond," Boromir said.

"As do I," Ella said. Boromir had told her about his dream on the way there, and she was curious about it too.

The Elf nodded. "Follow me. I will take you to his chambers." The Elf turned and walked off, not looking to see if they were following. They caught up with him as he began to climb a set of stairs. They found themselves in a large room with books on shelves that covered an entire wall, and many desks with scrolls and other things spread over them. An Elf with black hair stood looking out of a window, but he turned to them when the Elf who'd led them there said, "Lord Elrond, these visitors request to speak to you."

"Thank you, Lindir." The dark haired Elf, Elrond, turned to Boromir and Eothela. "Greetings, friends. How may I help you?"

"I am Boromir, son of the steward Denethor of Gondor." The man pointed at Ella. "My companion is Eothela, shield-maiden of Rohan. We have come because I recently had a dream that told me to seek out Imladris. I have many questions about that dream."

"It is well that you have come now, for there is to be a Council starting today where your questions will be answered. For now, you will be given rooms to stay in and rest until that time. Lindir will show you the way." Elrond nodded to the other Elf, who turned and walked out the door again. Boromir and Eothela bowed to Elrond and followed Lindir. He led them to adjoining rooms, where they found their things already brought up and placed on their beds. They thanked him and he left.

"We should sleep while we can," Ella said to Boromir. "It sounds like the Council will be very important."

"Yes, I believe it will be." Boromir had taken his cloak and armor off, as had she, and he now stood leaning against her doorframe. "But I'm not really tired."

"Well, I am, so please leave my room." Boromir bowed mockingly and left. Ella rolled her eyes and grabbed her brush from her pack. She wasn't remotely tired; she had lied to Boromir to get him to go away. Instead of sleeping, she sat on the edge of her window and took her hair out of its usual braid, brushing it as she watched the sun rise.


	24. More Changes

**AN: Hey, everyone. Sorry it's taken me so long to post again. For you readers who have been keeping up with me, you might want to check chapters 16 and 23 for the couple changes I made to the story. A helpful reader led to my discovering that maybe Ella and Boromir fall in love too fast. And I've also realized that Delia is becoming Mary-Sue-ish, so I've been working on fixing that. Oh, and does anyone know if I really have to put a disclaimer for everything, even though I've said many times that it all belongs to Tolkien?**

The Council was very long, almost a whole day, and mostly boring. There was news from everywhere, mostly from the South and the East. At the beginning of the Council, though, Elrond stood Frodo in front of everyone and introduced him. I had asked Elrond not to mention anything about what I knew, not for the moment anyway, until it was needed. And so I sat and observed the others of the Council. I had forgotten briefly that not everyone at Rivendell was at the Council; only Elrond's chief advisors. There were a few Elves from Rivendell, along with Legolas and Ningloriel from their homes, and Galdor from the Grey Havens. Gloin and Gimli were the only dwarves, and Aragorn sat to one side. Bilbo, Frodo, and I all sat together by Gandalf, and Boromir I had watched enter Rivendell early this morning.

But now here was another change: there was a human woman with Boromir, one from Rohan, I guessed from her clothing. She sat beside him and seemed content to only listen to all that was said, having nothing to say herself but a brief confirmation of what Gandalf said of the Rohan king's condition. Elrond had introduced her as Eothela of Rohan, but I heard Boromir call her Ella; I suppose it was short for her full name. All the news I knew, and the Ring's history as well, but I still paid attention, however boring it might be. When they finally got to the point when they had finally decided that it must be taken to be destroyed, I sighed a breath of relief, for the Council was almost over. Then it was only a matter of deciding who would take it, after Bilbo's valiant offer was put down. A sad smile came to my face as Frodo said, "I will take the Ring to Mordor, though I do not know the way." And then Sam said he was going with him, and my smile grew bigger, though no less sad.

There were scouts sent out, to get what other news that could be gotten, but all the hobbits remained in Rivendell, as well as Boromir and Eothela. This gave me the chance to talk to her that I wanted.

She was in the stables of Rivendell tending to her horse when I found her. The pony that had come all the way from Bree with us was there as well, and I petted him while I talked with her. "Hello," I said to begin. "I'm Delia."

"Well met, Delia. I am Eothela. What brings you to Rivendell?"

"I came with Frodo and his three other companions. What brings you to be here with Boromir?"

"I was sent to the Council, and along the way met him. When we found that we were both going to the same place, we joined together."

I heard more in her voice, and so I said, "You are only friends?"

"Yes, we are." It was the truth, but there was something off about the truth.

"Do you wish you were more than friends?"

"No, but I'm not sure. I don't want to fall in love with anyone while I'm still living as a soldier. I'm not ready to be a mother and have a family yet. Already, I have turned one man down who asked to marry me."

"I can understand the reluctance to marry while you are still a soldier." I could feel her look at me, but I had chosen that moment to turn my back to her.

"Do you love someone?"

"Yes; I've loved him for many years now, although I cannot marry him, for Middle Earth is not really my home."

"Where is your home, then, if not anywhere on Middle Earth?"

"I am from another world called Earth, and there I spent twenty years. Then I was somehow transported here and transformed into a hobbit. Where I come from, there are only humans."

"Oh; that is strange. But you are here now, so what keeps you from marrying?"

"The fact that I believe I am only here for a little while, and then I will be taken back to my home."

"Oh, I see then why you would not want to marry. I suppose if I were from somewhere completely foreign, I would keep from marrying too." There was a slight joke in her voice, and I turned to see her smiling at me.

I smiled back, and then I said, "Well, I suppose I'll go now. There are many people I want to talk with." I headed off to find Frodo; the lack of love in his eyes was still bothering me.

I found him in his room, leaning against the windowsill and admiring the view. I coughed when I entered and he turned to me. "Delia," he said, although there was no normal smile.

"Frodo, is there something wrong?" I asked as I sat on his bed and motioned for him to sit beside me.

"I don't know," he said with a sigh, complying. "Maybe. It just feels like you didn't do all you could out there."

"Out where? When?"

"When I got stabbed. You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"And I still got stabbed."

"Frodo, in the books you put the Ring on. But I kept you from doing that, remember? I held you hand closed so that you couldn't put it on your finger."

"But they still stabbed me."

"I tried to stop them, honestly. But it seems that I can only change some things. I guess you were supposed to get stabbed that night." It was a weak answer, and he knew it.

"There still should have been more you could have done." I didn't have anything to say to that, so I just looked away and hung my head. I felt Frodo stand and walk away, and when he was gone I got up and left too. I wandered aimlessly through the halls of Rivendell, until I found myself at my room. Having an idea for more of the new song, I grabbed the journal Frodo had given me on my birthday all those years ago, and a pencil, and I went to the Hall of Fire. When it isn't being used for special occasions, it is open for any who want peace and quiet to think. I found a stool in the corner, most likely the one Bilbo had used during the feast, and I sat down and began to write.

An hour or so passed as I poured emotions I was feeling just then into the song. Then tears started coming and I put my head in my hands, sobbing. Soft footfalls told me someone was coming, and I looked up briefly to see Gandalf sit on the floor in front of me. "Why do you cry?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I mumbled through my hands. I felt him take hold of the journal, but I held it down on my lap and said, "Gandalf, really, I'm fine. It was just sudden homesickness." I cringed at lying to him, but I didn't want him to know Frodo's accusations. I don't know why I didn't want him to know; maybe it was because I felt that it was only between me and Frodo. Maybe I felt that he already had enough to think about without being burdened with the feelings of a hobbit girl.

Whatever the reason, I could tell he didn't quite believe me, but he didn't push me. I remained sitting there, my face in my hands and elbows on the now-closed journal, until he rose and went away. I slowly opened my journal again and looked at the tear-soaked pages. They would need to dry; I stood and went to my room, laying the journal on the windowsill to dry. I lay on my back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to think of nothing and failing.

I didn't realize I had fallen asleep until I was awakened by the slightly unpleasant sensation of someone watching me while I slept. Then I felt the weight of the person, recognized the pattern of their breathing, and knew that Frodo was sitting on the bed beside me. I had rolled over onto my side as I slept, so my back was to him, and now I turned slightly to see him. "How long have you been there?" I asked.

"You didn't tell me the knife had cut you too," he said quietly, ignoring my question and tracing the scar on my upper arm with his finger.

"It wasn't important."

"It is to me." He paused for a while, then said, "I realize that what I said to you earlier was not right. You really did all you could; you even tried to take the stab from the knife, didn't you?"

"That was the idea. But it didn't work; you were still stabbed."

"But I had no right to say what I did."

"I don't blame you for saying it. I should have known you had already begun to change."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind." I thought a moment, deciding how I was going to go on with this. I'd been doing whatever I wanted, making decisions based on how I was feeling, and not what would be good for everyone else. What if one of my little changes had a big impact? I hadn't stopped to think about the big picture. Now I knew that I shouldn't change anything, nothing at all. But it was too late for that now; just being there had made so many changes. Women were playing a bigger part in the story by actually being a part of the Fellowship; don't ask me for the significance, because I don't really know it, it just was. I came to a decision. "Frodo, listen. What I know is dangerous, we both know that. And as I go with you on your journey, there will be many things that I would like to change, but that I won't because they have to be that way. I want you to know that. And I want you to know that I don't blame you if you ever feel like I'm not doing enough to help you."

Frodo was silent for a while. Then, "I understand, Delia. But I also want you to know that I will not give in to the Ring easily."

I turned to face him. His shirt was unbuttoned a few down, and I could see the chain with the Ring on it hanging there. I reached my hand out to it, intending to only hold the chain, but then there it was in my palm, so bright and heavy and alluring. I shook my head to clear it, and felt Frodo's hand shut around mine, hard. I looked into his eyes and saw what I expected to see: anger, fear, jealousy. "I'm not going to take it, Frodo," I whispered. "Let go." He must have seen something in my eyes, something like sorrow, because suddenly he was back to normal and he let my hand go. I let it drop to the bed and turned away again, my point made.

Frodo left after a while, and I was alone again. I supposed then that I would feel alone more than just as I lay there. I was sure there would be more times, and I wasn't wrong.


	25. The Journey Begins

**AN: Hey, I'm back. I've been drawing a blank on how to continue this, so I took a break and have been writing other things. Now I've got it figured out, so here comes Chapter 25. Enjoy, and Tolkien owns LotR.**

Eothela swung her ax at Boromir, but was blocked by his shield. Once again, he disarmed her and she pulled her boot knife, and they both laughed as they remembered their first fight. Each straightened up and shook hands; it had been a good spar. Ella retrieved her weapons and said, "I'll see you at dinner, Boromir." He smiled and nodded, and Ella turned to go to her rooms. She changed out of her sparring clothes and into a nicer outfit of long tunic and leggings. She sat on the edge of her bed and began to brush her hair; she had to do it after every sparring match or else it would become all tangled and knotted. She stood to look in the mirror and saw Boromir standing at her door, watching her. She didn't turn, just looked at him in the mirror as she braided her hair and said, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not very long," he replied, entering her room and sitting on her bed.

"It's rude to stare at women while they are doing private things."

"Like brushing their hair?" She could hear the sarcasm in his voice and knew that she was being difficult, but she repressed her smile and said, "Yes, like brushing their hair."

"Well, now I'll know for next time."

"Next time?" She raised her eyebrow. "Do you make it a habit to watch woman as they brush their hair and do other private things?"

"No; I only watch women that are beautiful. And of those beautiful women, I only watch the ones that I'm interested in."

"Oh? And how many beautiful interesting women have you watched?"

"Just one." There was no joke in his voice, only seriousness. _Oh God,_ she thought to herself. _He's in love with me. _But what she said was, "Who's that?"

"I think you know."

She sighed and turned to face him, hair forgotten. "Me?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes." He rose and took her hands. "Eothela, I love you. I want you to marry me." And Eothela threw up her hands in frustration, looked to heaven, and sat on the bed. She almost laughed at the look of pure confusion on Boromir's face, but it was too serious a matter for laughing. "What did I do wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, Boromir, nothing. You are fine, you did it all right. It's me that is the problem." He sat down again beside her and looked at her expectantly, as if saying, _Go on._ "Look, I want a family. I want to get married and have kids and love them. And you are a good man, and I believe you would make a good husband and father. But I'm not ready for that yet. I'm still a soldier, I have a whole career ahead of me. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to decline your offer."

To Ella's surprise, Boromir was nodding. "That's what I used to live by too. Don't marry until I'm done being a soldier. And that has worked, until now. Now I feel as if things are going to change. The first was meeting you; the second is the finding of the Ring of power. The halflings are going to take it to Mordor to destroy it, but do they look like soldiers? No, they look more at home eating and drinking and smoking their pipes. They are going to need someone to defend them on their journey. And I intend to be one of them."

"As do I. But what does that have to do with marriage?"

"The journey is not going to be easy. Some may not make it; you or I may have to give our lives to protect Frodo and the Ring. We may not live to marry later. I would rather marry you now and have you for only a little while than to put it off and watch you die in battle."

"I suppose that does sound better. But I need some time to think, please."

Boromir rose, bowed, and said, "I will wait however long it takes you to decide." Then he left the room. _Oh, _she thought. _He's that kind of man. Then again, he would be._ Ella pondered his words as she sat on her bed, continuing to brush her hair. Marry now and have him for as long as possible? Or wait and have to watch him die? Did she even want to marry him? He was a good man, a terrific fighter, better than Eomer had been, but he also had a softer side that was evident when he spoke of his little brother, Faramir.

For hours she thought about it, not leaving her room and only emerging once her mind was made up. She found Boromir sitting on his bed in his room, sharpening his sword. "Boromir," she said. He turned to look at her. "I've made up my mind. I'll marry you."

A smile appeared on his face, and he rose, discarding his sword, and came to her and took her hands. "What made you decide to change your mind?"

"What you said made a lot of sense. I may still be a soldier, but if I'm going on this journey where it is more likely I could die than a normal life as a soldier, then I don't want to put off something that could make the journey better, or at least a bit happier."

"Well, let's go ask Elrond if he'll do the ceremony for us, then. We'll need a witness; I suppose one of the Elves could be it."

"No, I know who the witness will be. You go tell Elrond, and I'll get the witness." Boromir squeezed her hands, and then hurried off to Elrond's chambers. Ella smiled as she thought of who she had in mind for the witness. As she walked past the various rooms, she wondered which one was Delia's. Then she noticed two halflings, ones that she hadn't met before, sitting together on a bench, laughing merrily and eating away at a basket of apples. They would know where Delia was. "Excuse me," she said.

One with dark hair looked up at her. "Oh, hello!" he said cheerily. "Can I help you?"

"Do you know where Delia might be?"

"Oh, yes," said the other one; his hair was light colored. "She's most likely in her room, or in the Hall of Fire, or on a balcony admiring the scenery."

"She's like that a lot, especially since we arrived here," added the dark haired one. "Something to do with Frodo, that's what we think."

"Could you tell me where her room is?" Ella asked.

"Sure. Just go down that path right there, then turn left, and it's the second door on the right."

"Thank you, um, what are your names?"

"I'm Merry," said the light-haired one. "And this is Pippin." He indicated the dark-haired one.

"Well, thank you, Merry and Pippin. Until next time." Ella followed the path Merry had pointed out, leaving them to their apples and laughter. She found Delia in her room, leaning against the windowsill and alternately looking at the trees and writing in a little journal. Ella cleared her throat.

"Oh, hello, Ella," Delia said as she looked up. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Delia. Better than fine, in fact. Boromir asked me to marry him today."

Delia's eyebrows went up. "So that's why you were in your room all day. I was beginning to think you had gotten sick. What did you say?"

"Well, at first I said no, like before. But then he gave his argument: we could all very well die on this journey to destroy the Ring and that we should marry and have each other for as long as possible instead of waiting and then having to watch the other die." A strange look passed over Delia's face then, but she seemed to put it away and replace it with happiness. Ella thought that maybe it was because of the fact that Delia couldn't marry whom she wanted. "So I thought about it, long and hard, and I decided that there was sense in what he said. So I changed my mind, and he's gone now to tell Elrond and ask him if he'll perform the ceremony for us. All we need now is a witness, and I want you to be the witness."

"I'd love to be your witness. Do I have to dress up?"

"No, I shouldn't think so. I'm getting married in what I'm wearing right now." She indicated her tunic and leggings with a wave of her hand. At that moment, Boromir stuck his head into the room. "Elrond says he'll perform the ceremony for us, Ella."

She smiled. "Wonderful. Boromir, this is Delia. She has agreed to be our witness."

"Ah, yes, one of the halflings from the Shire. Let us go, Elrond is waiting." They left Delia's room and headed for Elrond's chambers. "How did you find my room?" Delia asked as they walked.

"Oh, two helpful halflings told me where to find you," Ella replied.

"Yes, they helped me too," added Boromir.

"Oh, I suppose it was Merry and Pippin, wasn't it? They're always very helpful when they're in a good mood, which is often."

"Do you think they'll make it through that whole basket of apples?"

"Oh, yes. And then go begging to the kitchens for four loaves of bread and two wheels of cheese! You'll find that halflings have a large appetite, and they fill it with all the best foods whenever they get the chance." They all laughed, and soon found themselves in Elrond's chambers. It was a short ceremony, and there weren't any rings to exchange, but it was a happy moment for Ella and Boromir. As the newly-wed couple walked out of Elrond's chambers hand-in-hand, Ella looked back at Delia. The little she-halfling was talking to Elrond, a worried look on her face. Ella wondered what was wrong, but soon forgot once she and Boromir arrived at his room.


	26. Hollin

**AN: Using some of Tolkien's words, 'cause they're awesome and I can't write better than him. Head's up. Oh, and the creation stuff: I'm going by the Silmarillion here. Don't know if Gandalf really was there, but I thought it would be cool, so now he was there.**

Elrond summoned us all one day in December; it was time to choose the Fellowship. Elrond asked Frodo, "Do you still hold to your word, that you will be the Ring-bearer?"

"I will," he replied. "I will go with Sam and Delia." He looked at each of us, one standing on each side of him. I gave him a small smile.

"Then I cannot help you much, not even with counsel. I can foresee very little of your road, and how your task is to be achieved I do not know. But with Delia at your side, you should have at least small guidance that she is willing to give. Gandalf, too, will go with you; for this shall be his great task, and maybe the end of his labors. The other members of your group will represent the other Free Peoples of Middle Earth: Legolas and Ningloriel for the Elves; Gimli for the dwarves; and Aragorn, Boromir, and Eothela for Men. I believe ten to be-" Elrond was then interrupted by Merry.

"But if there is only ten, that will leave no room for us!"

"Yes, we want to go with Frodo as well!" Pippin insisted.

"That is because you do not understand and cannot imagine what lies ahead," replied Elrond.

"Neither does Frodo," I said, defending them. Yes, I stole Gandalf's words. So what. "If they knew what was going to happen, they wouldn't want to go, yes. But they would wish to go, or wish they wanted to go, and be shamed and unhappy about not going. It is because of friendship and love that they go, not because of bravery or wisdom."

"Why do you go, Delia?" asked Gandalf.

"Love, and duty." I looked at Frodo as I said this, and I saw love in his eyes again, though perhaps dimmer than before. Elrond cleared his throat.

"Very well," he said. "Meriadoc and Peregrin shall go with the Fellowship and make it a party of twelve. In seven days the company must depart." And so began the preparations, the packing and saying of farewells to friends that had been made of the Elves.

The shards of Narsil were reforged, and Aragorn named the reforged sword Anduril, Flame of the West. He and Gandalf spent most of their time poring over maps and charts and talking of the journey and the course we should take. They asked me once if I would like to join them to help find the safest way, but I explained my decisions about changing things, and they respected my choice. After that I spent my time with the other hobbits; evenings were spent in the Hall of Fire. There we listened to the Elves tell the Lay of Luthien in full, among other things. During the day, Frodo and Sam would hole up with Bilbo, Merry and Pippin would go off and explore the woods in the valley, and I would write in my journal, or sit and talk with Gandalf when he wasn't with Aragorn. I enjoyed these talks with Gandalf; even when we were talking about the smallest of things, he put a spin on it that opened a new way of thinking to me. One day, close to the end, I asked, "Gandalf, were you there when Elu created Arda?"

"My goodness, Delia," he laughed. "How old do you think I am?"

"Oh, I can't begin to guess, but I do know you are one of the Maiar."

He looked at me, bushy eyebrows raised in something like surprise. "You know that, do you?"

"Yes. The book about Frodo and the Ring tells a lot, and what isn't in there is in the book about Bilbo's adventure, or in a book that holds the history of Middle Earth. It contains the telling of the creation of Arda, and I was wondering if you were one of the Maiar and Valar that had been there."

"Well, yes, I was there." A faraway look came into Gandalf's eyes, as if he were seeing it all again in his mind. "It was magnificent. More than that; there is nothing I can say that can describe it. The world was new, bright, brilliant; the first sunrise contained all the colors of the rainbow. The night burned with billions of new stars, the light beginning its long journey to Arda for the first time. And the music, the music of creation. It was like food to a starving person; it sustained and grew and created and breathed and was almost a being in itself." His voice stopped, but his lips didn't stop moving, as if he was singing along with the words in his head, remembering. I left him quietly to his thoughts.

I spent some of my time trying out my sling again. I stood in the woods, sling in one hand, rocks in the other, and launched stone after stone at a tree. But my results here were nothing like the results I'd had in Hobbiton. There I had hit every target dead on; here I missed nine out of ten times, and that one time was just a graze. As the eleventh stone flew far to the left of the tree, I threw down the sling in frustration and rubbed my arm. It had started to prickle, and then burn as I was practicing. I realized it was the arm that the knife had cut; my lack of sling skill suddenly made sense. I picked up the sling and went back to my room, where I spent the rest of the day upset at the loss. After dinner though, my sense returned to me, and I realized that my skill with the sling would be unneeded with six warriors in the Fellowship.

The day of departure was dark and gray and cheerless. Dusk was falling, for Elrond had warned us not to trust the daylight and the exposure it would bring; not even the sky could be trusted, he said. I heard Sam muttering about rope, Bilbo called good-bye to Frodo, and then we were off, starting up out of the valley. At the very top, we stood and took a last look at the Last Homely House, and then away we went down the other side. We crossed the Ford of Bruinen and made our way south off the Road by little paths in the countryside. Gandalf and Aragorn led, for Aragorn knew these lands so well he could navigate them in the dark that pressed on us; Legolas and Ningloriel kept the rear because of their sharp eyes.

The long days passed in a blur, with little happening. We traveled by night, slept in the day; meals were cold when we had them, for we couldn't risk a fire. The wind never stopped blowing, and even though Elrond had provided us all with warm clothes, there wasn't a moment when we felt fully warmed. Even when I slept, huddled in Frodo's arms as I was, I was still not warm. Two weeks we traveled under those conditions, and then a day dawned that was different. We had reached the land of Hollin, also called Eregion, and ahead of us could be seen the Misty Mountains. Gimli spoke of the three peaks ahead of us, and what lay below them: Moria, and Khazad-dum. We made camp under some holly bushes, and even risked a fire, for Gandalf said that it was safe. The mood was cheerful for the first time in a while, and the food was warm.

I had an idea as we were sitting there. This was as close as it would get to the scene in the movies where Boromir tried to teach Merry and Pippin how to use the swords they had. Where did they get swords? Aragorn had found a couple blades just the right size for a hobbit while at Rivendell, and he had given them to Merry and Pippin. My idea was my own little joke: suggest to Eothela that maybe the two young hobbits could benefit from a lesson or two in handling a sword. They had their swords out now and were admiring and comparing them. Before I could say anything to Eothela, though, she nudged me with her elbow and indicated the two. "Do they know anything at all about swords?"

"No, nothing past the idea that the pointy end goes into your foe."

"Ah. That may be a problem later."

"Oh, definitely. I know Aragorn would have given them a few pointers had he found the swords earlier."

Eothela looked thoughtful. "I would teach them, but I know little about swords; axes are more my specialty. But I know someone who uses a sword." She turned to her right, where Boromir was stretched out in the sun, hands behind his head. She reached over and tapped him on the chest. "Wake up, sleepy head. Look at the young hobbits over there." Boromir opened his eyes, raised himself on his elbows, and observed Merry and Pippin. They were now standing and pretending to fight each other.

"What are they doing?" Boromir asked. "Are they trying to pretend at sword-fighting?"

"Yes, I think that's what is happening," Eothela agreed.

"They're terrible." He began to lay back down, but Ella stopped him.

"Go teach them how to use those swords they have," she coaxed. He groaned. "They'll thank you later when they keep their first orc from decapitating them." Boromir rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, walking over to the hobbits. Ella and I watched as they copied his movements, and soon the whole camp was watching. Frodo came to sit down by me and said, "Did you start this?"

"Me? All I did was talk to my friend Ella." I looked at him innocently, but I was having trouble keeping the smile off my face. We both cracked up at the same time, and I became aware of Ningloriel watching us. I smiled at her and she smiled back. My attention was drawn to Merry, Pippin, and Boromir again as he told them that was enough for today and turned to walk away. Merry and Pippin looked at each other, nodded, and then ran after him, swords raised and half-yelling, half-laughing. Boromir turned back around quickly, his eyes wide, and somehow blocked the first swing at his legs. The second got through, however, and he grunted as the sword hit his left leg; apparently the swords were not sharpened, and that was a good thing.

When the boys found out that their swords weren't sharp at all, they discarded them and each grabbed one of Boromir's legs; together, they pulled his legs out from under him and he fell on his back. The fight dissolved into a wrestling match, with all three laughing and infecting the spectators with their laughter. I noticed Aragorn standing on the ridge above us, seeming to listen to the south and the west, then come and stand on the edge, watching us. He was the only one who did not join in the laughter, and my smile faded as I thought of what made him so sullen. Merry, Pippin, and Boromir had stopped wrestling, and now Merry called out, "What's the matter, Strider?"

"All things but you are silent," he replied. "I can feel it. There is no sound for miles about us, and your voices seem to make the ground echo. I do not understand it."

"But what do you guess is the reason?" asked Gandalf shrewdly. "Is there more in it than surprise at seeing five hobbits, not to mention the rest of us, where people are so seldom seen or heard?"

"I hope that is it," answered Aragorn. "But I have a sense of watchfulness, and of fear, that I have never had here before."

"Then we must be more careful. If you bring a Ranger with you, it is well to pay attention to him, especially if that Ranger is Aragorn. We must stop talking aloud, rest quietly, and set the watch." And so we all settled down to sleep, Boromir and Eothela huddled together like Frodo and I, and Sam took the first watch with Aragorn, who was still silent and alert.

When we woke, Gandalf and Aragorn informed us that we would have no fire and that we would have to move by night again, starting now. No one was happy with this, although no one complained louder than Merry and Pippin. As we moved on, I assured them that they could still look forward to having good warm meals in the future, for who knew where this journey would take them? As they walked away happier of heart, Frodo said, "You know." I just looked at him, seeing the question that was always there, and being unable to answer. _Will I make it back? Will I be the same?_ he wonders.


End file.
